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5PHDI5H 


HEWLETT 


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S.7 


The  Spanish  Jade 

By 
MAURICE    HEWLETT 


Illustrated  and  Decorated  by 

W.    HYDE 


YORK 

GROSSET   &    DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  igoy,  BY  HARPBR  &  BROTHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE&  COMPANY 
PUBLISHED,  MAY,  1908 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED  INCLUDING   THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


INTRODUCTION 

Cada  pitta  hfle  (let  every  jade  go  spin) — 

SANCHO  PANZA.  x 

ALMOST  alone  in  Europe  stands  Spain, 
the  country  of  things  as  they  are.  The 
Spaniard  weayes  no  glamour  about  facts, 
apologises  for  nothing,  extenuates  noth- 
ing. Lo  que  ha  de  ser  no  puede  faltar! 
If  you  must  have  an  explanation,  here 
it  is.  Chew  it,  Englishman,  and  be  con- 
tent: you  will  get  no  other.  One  result 
of  this  is  that  Circumstance,  left  naked, 
is  to  be  seen  more  often  a  strong  than  a 
pretty  thing;  and  another  that  the  English- 
man, inveterately  a  draper,  is  often  horrified 
and  occasionally  heartbroken.  The  Span- 
iard may  regret,  but  cannot  mend  the 
organ.  His  own  will  never  suffer  the  same 
fate.  Chercher  le  midi  a  quatorze  heures 
is  no  foible  of  his. 

The  state  of  things  cannot  last;  for  the 

ix 


THE  SPANISH  JADE 


sentimental  pour  into  the  country  now, 
and  insist  that  the  natives  shall  become  as 
self-conscious  as  themselves.  The  Sud- 
Express  brings  them  from  England  and 
Germany,  vast  ships  convey  them  from 
New  York.  Then  there  are  the  news- 
papers, eager  as  ever  to  make  bricks 
without  straw.  Against  Teutonic  travellers 
and  journalists  no  idiosyncrasy  can  stand 
out.  The  country  will  run  to  pulp,  as  a 
pear,  bitten  without  by  wasps  and  within 
by  a  maggot,  will  get  sleepy  and  drop. 
That  end  is  not  yet,  the  Lord  be  praised, 
and  will  not  be  in  your  time  or  mine. 
The  tale  I  have  to  tell  —  an  old  one,  as 
we  reckon  news  now  —  might  have  hap- 
pened yesterday;  for  that  was  when  I  was 
last  in  Spain,  and  satisfied  myself  that 
all  the  concomitants  were  still  in  being. 
I  can  assure  you  that  many  a  Don  Luis 
yet,  bitterly  poor  and  bitterly  proud,  starves 
and  shivers,  and  hugs  up  his  bones  in  his 
capa  between  the  Bidassoa  and  the  Man- 
zanares;  many  a  wild-hearted,  unlettered 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  xi 

Manuela  applies  the  inexorable  law  of  the 
land  to  her  own  detriment,  and,  with  a 
sob  in  her  breath,  sits  down  to  her  spinning 
again,  her  mouldy  crust  and  cup  of  cold 
water,  or  worse  fare  than  that.  Joy  is 
not  for  the  poor,  she  says  —  and  then, 
with  a  shrug,  Lo  que  ha  de  ser  .  .  .  / 
But  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  belongs  to 
George  Borrow's  day,  this  tale,  when  gentle- 
men rode  a-horseback  between  town  and 
town,  and  followed  the  river-bed  rather  than 
the  road.  A  stranger  then,  in  the  plains  of 
Castile,  was  either  a  fool  who  knew  not 
when  he  was  well  off,  or  an  unfortunate, 
whose  misery  at  home  forced  him  afield. 
There  was  no  genus  Tourist;  the  traveller 
was  conspicuous  and  could  be  traced  from 
Spain  to  Spain.  When  you  get  on  you'll 
see;  that  is  how  Tormillo  weaselled  out 
Mr.  Manvers,  by  the  smell  of  his  blood. 
A  great,  roomy,  haggard  country,  half  desert 
waste  and  half  bare  rock,  was  the  Spain  of 
1860,  immemorially  old,  immutably  the  same, 
splendidly  frank,  acquainted  with  grief  and 


xii  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

sin,  shameless  and  free;  like  some  brown 
gipsy  wench  of  the  wayside,  with  throat 
and  half  her  bosom  bare,  who  would  laugh 
and  show  her  teeth,  and  be  free  with 
her  jest;  but  if  you  touched  her  honour, 
ignorant  that  she  had  one,  would  stab  you 
without  ruth  and  go  her  free  way,  leaving 
you  carrion  in  the  ditch.  Such  was  the 
Spain  which  Mr.  Manvers  visited  some 
fifty  years  ago. 


THE  SPANISH  JADE 


The  Spanish  Jade 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    PLEASANT    ERRAND 

INTO  the  plain  beyond  Burgos,  through 
the  sunless  glare  of  before-dawn,  upon 
a  soft-padding  ass  that  cast  no  shadow 
and  made  no  sound;  well  upon  the 
stern  of  that  ass,  and  with  two  bare 
heels  to  kick  him;  alone  in  the  immensity 
of  Castile,  and  as  happy  as  a  king  may  be, 
rode  a  young  man  on  a  May  morning, 
singing  to  himself  a  wailing,  winding  chant 
in  the  minor,  which,  as  it  had  no  end,  may 
well  have  had  no  beginning.  He  only 
paused  in  it  to  look  before  him  between 
his  donkey's  ears;  and  then  —  "Arre,  burra, 
hi  jo  de  perra!"  -he  would  drive  his  heels 
into  the  animal's  rump.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  song  went  spearing  aloft  again  .... 
"En  batalla-a-a  temero-o-sa-a  I  " 


THE    SPANISH   JADE 


I  say  that  he  was  young;  he  was  very 
young,  and  looked  very  delicate,  with  his 
transparent,  alabaster  skin,  lustrous  gray 
eyes,  and  pale,  thin  lips.  He  had  a  sagging 
straw  hat  upon  his  round  and  shapely 
head,  a  shirt  —  and  a  dirty  shirt  —  open 
to  the  waist.  His  faja  was  a  broad  band 
of  scarlet  cloth  wound  half  a  dozen  times 
about  his  middle,  and  supported  a  murder- 
ous long  knife.  For  the  rest,  cotton  drawers, 
bare  legs,  and  feet  as  brown  as  walnuts. 
All  of  him  that  was  not  whitey-brown 
cotton  or  red  cloth  was  the  colour  of  the 
country;  but  his  cropped  head  was  black, 
and  his  eyes  were  very  light  gray,  keen, 
restless,  and  bold.  He  was  sharp-featured, 
careless,  and  impudent;  but  when  he  smiled 
you  might  think  him  bewitching.  His 
name  he  would  give  you  as  Esteban  Vincaz 
-  which  it  was  not;  his  affair  was  pressing, 
pleasant,  and  pious.  Of  that  he  had  no 
doubt  at  all.  He  was  intending  the  murder 
of  a  young  woman. 

His  eyes,   as  he  sang,  roamed  the  sun- 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


struck  land,  and  saw  everything  as  it  should 
be.  Life  was  a  grim  business  for  man 
and  beast  and  herb  of  the  field,  no  better 
for  one  than  for  the  other.  The  winter 
corn  in  patches  struggled  sparsely  through 
the  clods;  darnels,  tares,  dead-nettle,  and 
couch,  the  vetches  of  last  year,  and  the  this- 
tles of  next,  contended  with  it,  not  in  vain. 
The  olives  were  not  yet  in  flower,  but  the 
plums  and  sloes  were  powdered  with  white; 
all  was  in  order.  When  a  clump  of  smoky 
blue  iris  caught  his  downward  looks,  he 
slipped  off  his  ass  and  snatched  a  handful 
for  his  hat.  "The  Sword-flower,"  he  called 
it,  and  accepting  the  omen  with  a  chuckle, 
jumped  into  his  seat  again  and  kicked  the 
beast  with  his  naked  heels  into  the  shamble 
that  does  duty  for  a  pace.  As  he  decorated 
his  hat-string  he  resumed  his  song: 

"  En  batalla  temerosa 
Andaba  el  Cid  castellano 
COD.  Bucar,  ese  rey  moro, 
Que  contra  el  Cid  ha  llegado 
A  le  ganar  a  Valencia     .     .     . 

He  hung  upon  the  pounding  assonances, 


6  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

and  his  heart  thumped  in  accord,  as  if  his 
present  adventure  had  been  that  crowning 
one  of  the  hero's. 

Accept  him  for  what  he  was,  the  grace- 
less son  of  his  parents  —  horse-thief,  sheep- 
thief,  contrabandist,  bully,  trader  of  women 
—  he  had  the  look  of  a  seraph  when  he 
sang,  the  complacency  of  an  angel  of  the 
Weighing  of  Souls.  And  why  not?  He 
had  no  doubts;  he  could  justify  every 
hour  of  his  life.  If  money  failed  him, 
wits  did  not;  he  had  the  manners  of  a  gen- 
tleman —  and  a  gentleman  he  actually  was, 
Hidalgo  by  birth  —  and  the  morals  of  a 
hyaena,  that  is  to  say,  none  at  all.  I  doubt 
if  he  had  anything  worth  having  except 
the  grand  air;  the  rest  had  been  discarded 
as  of  no  account.  Schooling  had  been 
his,  he  had  let  it  slip;  if  his  gentlehood  had 
been  negotiable  he  had  carded  it  away. 
Nowadays  he  knew  only  elementary  things 
— hunger,  thirst,  fatigue,  desire,  hatred,  fear. 
What  he  craved,  that  he  took,  if  he  could. 
He  feared  the  dark,  and  God  in  the  Sacra- 


THE  SPANISH  JADE 


ment.  He  pitied  nothing,  regretted  nothing; 
for  to  pity  a  thing  you  must  respect  it,  and 
to  respect  you  must  fear;  and  as  for  regret, 
when  it  came  to  feeling  the  loss  of  a  thing 
it  came  naturally  also  to  hating  the  cause 
of  its  loss ;  and  so  the  greater  lust  swallowed 
up  the  less.  He  had  felt  regret  when 
Manuela  ran  away;  it  had  hurt  him,  and 
he  hated  her  for  it.  That  was  why  he 
intended  at  all  cost  to  find  her  again,  and 
to  kill  her;  because  she  had  been  his  amiga, 
and  had  left  him.  Three  weeks  ago  it  had 
been,  at  the  fair  of  Pobledo.  The  fair  had 
been  spoiled  for  him,  he  had  earned  nothing 
and  lost  much;  esteem,  to  wit,  his  own 
esteem,  mortally  wounded  by  the  loss  of 
Manuela,  whose  beauty  had  been  a  mark, 
and  its  possession  an  asset;  and  time  - 
valuable  time  —  lost  in  finding  out  where 
she  had  gone.  Friends  of  his  had  helped 
him ;  he  had  hailed  every  arriero  on  the  road 
from  Pamplona  to  La  Coruna;  and  when 
he  had  what  he  wanted  he  had  only  delayed 
for  one  day,  to  get  his  knife  ground.  He 


8  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

knew  exactly  where  she  was,  at  what  hour 
he  should  find  her,  and  with  whom.  His 
tongue  itched  and  brought  water  into  his 
mouth  when  he  pictured  the  meeting.  He 
pictured  it  now,  as  he  jogged  and  sang  and 
looked  contentedly  at  the  endless  plain. 

Presently  he  came  within  sight,  and> 
since  he  made  no  effort  to  avoid  it,  presently 
again  into  the  street  of  a  mud-built  village. 
Few  people  were  astir.  A  man  slept  in  an 
angle  of  a  wall,  flies  about  his  head;  a  dog 
in  an  entry  scratched  himself  with  ecstasy ;  a 
woman  at  a  doorway  was  combing  her  child's 
hair,  and  looked  up  to  watch  his  coming. 

Entering  in  his  easy  way,  he  looked  to 
the  east  to  judge  of  the  light.  Sunrise 
was  nearly  an  hour  away;  he  could  afford 
to  obey  the  summons  of  the  cracked  bell, 
filling  the  place  with  its  wrangling,  with 
the  creaking  of  its  wheel.  He  hobbled  his 
beast  in  the  little  plaza,  and  followed 
some  straying  women  into  church. 

Immediately  confronting  him  at  the  door 
was  a  hideous  idol.  A  huge  and  brown 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          9 

wooden  Christ,  with  black  horsehair  tresses, 
staring  white  eyeballs,  staring  red  wounds, 
towered  before  him,  hanging  from  a  cross. 
Esteban  knelt  to  it  on  one  knee,  and,  remem- 
bering his  hat,  doffed  it  sideways  over  his 
ear.  He  said  his  two  paternosters,  and  then 
performed  one  odd  ceremony  more.  Several 
people  saw  him  do  it,  but  no  one  was  sur- 
prised. He  took  the  long  knife  from  his 
faja  running  his  finger  lightly  along  the 
edge,  laid  it  flat  before"  the  Cross,  and, 
looking  up  at  the  tormented  God,  said 
Him  another  pater.  That  done,  he  went 
into  the  church,  and  knelt  upon  the  floor 
in  company  with  kerchiefed  women,  children, 
a  dog  or  two,  and  some  beggars  of  incredi- 
ble age  and  infirmities  beyond  description, 
and  rose  to  one  knee,  fell  to  both,  covered 
his  eyes,  watched  the  celebrant,  or  the 
youngest  of  the  women,  just  as  the  server's 
little  bell  bade  him.  Single  ceremonies, 
done  by  rote  and  common  to  Latin  Europe ; 
certainly  not  learned  of  the  Moors. 

Mass  over,  our  young  avjnger  prepared 


10  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

to  resume  his  journey  by  breaking  his 
fast.  A  hunch  of  bread  and  a  few  raisins 
sufficed  him,  and  he  ate  these  sitting  on 
the  steps  of  the  church,  watching  the  women 
as  they  loitered  on  their  way  home.  Este- 
ban  had  a  keen  eye  for  women;  pence  only, 
I  mean  the  lack  of  them,  prevented  him 
from  being  a  collector.  But  the  eye  is 
free;  he  viewed  them  all  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  cabinet.  One  he  approved. 
She  carried  herself  well,  had  fine  ankles, 
and  wore  a  flower  in  her  hair  like  an  Andalu- 
sian.  Now,  it  was  one  of  his  many  grudges 
against  fate  that  he  had  never  been  in 
Andalusia  and  seen  the  women  there. 
For  certain,  they  were  handsome ;  a  Sevil- 
lana,  for  instance !  Would  they  wear  flowers 
in  their  hair  —  over  the  ear  —  unless  they 
dared  be  looked  at?  Manuela  was  of 
Valencia,  more  than  half  Gitana:  a  wonder- 
fully supple  girl.  When  she  danced  the 
jota  it  was  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  snake 
in  an  agony.  Her  hair  was  tawny  yellow, 
and  very  long.  She  wore  no  flower  in  it, 


THE  SPANISH  JADE  11 

but  bound  a  red  handkerchief  in  and  out 
of  the  plaits.  She  was  vain  of  her  hair  — 
heart  of  God,  how  he  hated  her! 

Then  the  priest  came  out  of  church,  fat 
dew-lapped,  greasy,  very  short  of  breath,  but 
benevolent.  "Good  day,  good  day  to  you,"  he 
said.  **  You  are  a  stranger.  From  the  North  ?" 

"My  reverence,  from  Burgos." 

"Ha,  from  Burgos  this  morning!  A 
fine  city,  a  great  city." 

'Yes,  sir,  it's  true.  It  is  where  they 
buried  our  lord  the  Campeador." 

"So  they  say.  You  are  lettered!  And 
early  afoot." 

'Yes,  sir.  I  am  called  to  be  early.  I 
still  go  South." 

"Seeking  work,  no  doubt.  You  are 
honest,  I  hope?" 

'Yes,  sir,  a  very  honest  Christian.  But 
I  seek  no  work.  I  find  it." 

'You  are  lucky,"  said  the  priest,  and 
took  snuff.  "And  where  is  your  work? 
In  Valladolid,  perhaps?" 

Esteban  blinked  hard  at  that  last  question. 


THE  SPANISH  JADE 


"No,  sir,"  he  said.  "Not  there/'  Do 
what  he  might  he  could  not  repress  the 
bitter  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

The  old  priest  paused,  his  fingers  once 
more  in  the  snuff-box.  "There  again  you 
have  a  great  city.  Ah,  and  there  was  a 
time  when  Valladolid  was  one  of  the  greatest 
in  Castile.  The  capital  of  a  kingdom! 
Chosen  seat  of  a  king!  Pattern  of  the  true 
Faith!"  His  eyelids  narrowed  quickly. 
"You  do  not  know  it?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Esteban  gently.  "I 
have  never  been  there." 

The  priest  shrugged.  "Vaya!  it  is  no 
affair  of  mine,"  he  said.  Then  he  waved 
his  hand,  wagging  it  about  like  a  fan.  "  Go 
your  ways,"  he  added,  "with  God." 

"Always  at  the  feet  of  your  reverence," 
said  Esteban,  and  watched  him  depart. 
He  started  after  him,  and  looked  sick. 

Altogether  he  delayed  for  an  hour  and  a 
quarter  in  this  village:  a  material  time. 
The  sun  was  up  as  he  left  it  —  a  burning 
globe,  just  above  the  limits  of  the  plain. 


CHAPTER  H 

THE    TRAVELLER   AT    LARGE 

AHEAD  of  Esteban,  some  five  or  six 
hours,  or  rather,  converging  upon 
a  common  centre  so  far  removed  from  our 
friend,  was  one  Osmund  Manvers,  a  young 
English  gentleman  of  easy  fortune,  indepen- 
dent habits,  and  analytical  disposition;  also 
riding,  also  singing  to  himself,  equally  early 
afoot,  but  in  very  different  circumstances. 
He  bestrode  a  horse  tolerably  sound,  had  a 
haversack  before  him  reasonably  stored. 
He  had  a  clean  shirt  on  him,  and  another 
embaled,  a  brace  of  pistols,  a  New  Testa- 
ment and  a  "Don  Quixote";  he  wore  brown 
knee-boots,  a  tweed  jacket,  white  duck 
breeches,  and  a  straw  hat  as  little  pictur- 
esque as  it  was  comfortable  or  convenient. 
Neither  revenge  nor  enemy  lay  ahead  of 
him;  he  travelled  for  his  pleasure,  and  so 

13 


14  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

pleasantly  that  even  Time  was  his  friend. 
Health  was  the  salt  of  his  daily  fare,  and 
curiosity  gave  him  appetite  for  every  minute 
of  the  day. 

He  would  have  looked  incongruous  in 
the  elfin  landscape  —  in  that  empty  plain, 
under  that  ringing  sky  —  if  he  had  not 
appeared  to  be  as  extremely  at  home  in  it 
as  young  Esteban  himself;  but  there  was 
this  further  difference  to  be  noted,  that 
whereas  Esteban  seemed  to  belong  to  the 
land,  the  land  seemed  to  belong  to  Mr. 
Manvers  —  the  land  of  the  Spains  and  all 
those  vast  distances  of  it,  the  enormous  space 
of  ground,  the  dim  blue  mountains  at  the 
edge,  the  great  arch  of  sky  over  all.  He 
might  have  been  a  young  squire  at  home, 
overlooking  his  farms,  one  eye  for  the  tillage 
or  the  upkeep  of  fence  and  hedge,  another 
for  a  covey  or  a  hare  in  a  furrow  He  was 
as  serene  as  Esteban  and  as  con  tented;  but 
his  comfort  lay  in  easy  possession,  not  in 
being  easily  possessed.  Occasionally  he 
whistled  as  he  rode,  but,  like  Esteban, 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  15 

broke  now  and  again  into  a  singing  voice, 
more  cheerful,  I  think,  than  melodious. 

"  If  she  be  not  fair  for  me, 
What  care  I  how  fair  she  be  ?" 

An  old  song.  But  Henry  Chorley  made  a 
tune  for  it  the  summer  before  Mr.  Manvers 
left  England,  and  it  had  caught  his  fancy, 
both  the  air  and  the  sentiment.  They  had 
come  aptly  to  suit  his  scoffing  mood,  and  to 
help  him  salve  the  wound  which  a  Miss 
Eleanor  Vernon  had  dealt  his  heart  —  a 
Miss  Eleanor  Vernon  with  her  clear,  dis- 
dainful eyes.  She  had  given  him  his  first 
acquaintance  with  the  hot-and-cold  disease. 
"If  she  be  not  fair  for  me!"  Well,  she 
was  not  to  be  that.  Let  her  go  spin  then, 
and  —  "What  care  I  how  fair  she  be?" 
He  had  discarded  her  with  the  Dover  cliffs 
and  resumed  possession  of  himself  and  his 
seeing  eye.  By  this  time  a  course  of  desul- 
tory journeying  through  Britanny  and  the 
West  of  France,  a  winter  in  Paris,  a 
packet  from  Bordeaux  to  Santander  had 
cured  him  of  his  hurt.  The  song  came 


16  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

unsought  to  his  lips,  but  had  no  wounded 
heart  to  salve. 

Mr.  Manvers  was  a  pleasant  looking 
young  man,  sanguine  in  hue,  gray  in  the 
eye,  with  a  twisted  sort  of  smile  by  no  means 
unattractive.  His  features  were  irregular, 
but  he  looked  wholesome;  his  humour  was 
fitful,  sometimes  easy,  sometimes  unaccount- 
ably stiff.  They  called  him  a  Character 
at  home,  meaning  that  he  was  liable  to 
freakish  asides  from  the  common  rutted 
road,  and  could  not  be  counted  on.  It 
was  true.  He  for  his  part  called  himself 
an  observer  of  Manners,  which  implied 
that  he  had  rather  watch  than  take  a  side; 
but  he  was  both  hot-tempered  and  quick- 
tempered, and  might  well  find  himself  in 
the  middle  of  things  before  he  knew  it. 
His  crooked  smile,  however,  seldom  deserted 
him,  seldom  was  exchanged  for  a  crooked 
scowl;  and  the  light  beard  which  he  had 
allowed  himself  in  the  solitudes  of  Paris  led 
one  to  imagine  his  jaw  less  square  than 
it  really  was. 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  17 

I  suppose  him  to  have  been  five-foot-ten 
in  his  boots,  and  strong  to  match.  He  had  a 
comfortable  income,  derived  from  land  in 
Somersetshire,  upon  which  his  mother,  a 
widow  lady,  and  his  two  unmarried  sisters 
lived,  and  attended  archery  meetings  in 
company  of  the  curate.  The  disdain  of 
Miss  Eleanor  Vernon  had  cured  him  of  a 
taste  for  such  simple  joys,  and  now  that,  by 
travel,  he  had  cured  himself  of  Miss 
Eleanor,  he  was  travelling  on  for  his 
pleasure,  or,  as  he  told  himself,  to  avoid 
the  curate.  Thus  neatly  he  referred  to  his 
obligations  to  Church  and  State  in  Somer- 
setshire. 

By  six  o'clock  on  this  fine  May  morning 
he  had  already  ridden  far  —  from  Sahagun, 
indeed,  where  he  had  spent  some  idle  days 
lounging  and  exchanging  observations  on 
the  weather  with  the  inhabitants.  He  had 
been  popular,  for  he  was  perfectly  simple, 
and  without  airs;  never  asked  what  he  did 
not  want  to  know,  and  never  refused  to 
answer  what  it  was  obviously  desired  he 


18  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

should.  But  man  cannot  live  upon  small 
talk;  and  as  he  had  taken  up  his  rest  in 
Sahagun  in  a  moment  of  impulse — when  he 
saw  that  it  possessed  a  church  dome  covered 
with  glazed  green  tiles  —  so  now  he  left  it. 

"High  heaven!"  he  had  cried,  sitting  up 
in  bed,  "what  the  deuce  am  I  doing  here? 
Nothing.  Nothing  on  earth.  Let 's  get  out 
of  it."  So  out  he  had  got,  and  could  not 
ask  for  breakfast  —  at  four  in  the  morning. 

He  rode  fast,  desiring  to  make  way 
before  the  heat  began,  and  by  six  o'clock, 
with  the  sun  above  the  horizon,  was  not 
sorry  to  see  towers  and  pinnacles,  or  to  hear 
across  the  emptiness  the  clangorous  notes 
of  a  deep-toned  bell.  "The  muezzin  calls 
the  faithful,  but  for  me  another  summons 
must  be  sounded.  That  town  will  be 
Palencia.  There  I  breakfast,  by  the  grace 
of  God.  Coffee  and  eggs." 

Palencia  it  was,  a  town  of  pretence,  if 
such  a  word  can  be  applied  to  anything 
Spanish,  where  things  either  are  or  are  not, 
and  there 's  an  end.  It  was  as  drab  as  the 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  19 

landscape,  as  weather-worn  and  austere; 
but  it  had  a  squat  officer  sitting  at  the  receipt 
of  custom,  which  Sahagun  had  not,  and  a 
file  of  anxious  peasants  before  him,  bargain- 
ing for  their  chickens  and  hay. 

Upon  the  horseman's  approach  the  func- 
tionary raised  himself,  looking  over  the 
heads  of  the  crowd  as  at  a  greater  thing, 
saluted,  and  inquired  for  gate  dues  with 
his  patient  eyes.  "I  have  here,"  said 
Manvers,  who  loved  to  be  didactic  in  a 
foreign  language,  "a  shirt  and  a  comb,  the 
New  Testament,  the  '  History  of  the  Ingen- 
ious Gentleman,  Don  Quixote  de  la 
Mancha,'  and  a  tooth-brush." 

Much  of  this  was  Greek  to  the  doganero, 
who  however  understood  that  the  stranger 
was  referring  in  tolerable  Castilian  to  a  pro- 
vincial gentleman  of  degree.  The  name  and 
Manvers's  twisted  smile  together  won  him 
the  entry.  The  officer  just  eased  his  peaked 
cap.  "Go  with  God,  sir,"  he  directed. 

"Assuredly,"  said  Manvers,  "but  pray 
assist  me  to  the  inn." 


THE  SPANISH   JADE 


The  Providencia  was  named,  indicated, 
and  found.  There  was  an  elderly  man  in 
the  yard  of  it,  placidly  plucking  a  live  fowl, 
a  barbarity  with  which  our  traveller  had 
now  ceased  to  quarrel. 

"Leave  your  horrid  task,  my  friend," 
he  said;  "take  my  horse  and  feed  him." 

The  bird  was  released,  and  after  shaking, 
by  force  of  habit,  what  no  longer,  or  only 
partially,  existed,  rejoined  his  companions. 
They  received  him  coldly,  but  he  soon  showed 
that  he  could  pick  as  well  as  be  picked. 

"Now,"  said  Manvers  to  the  ostler,  "give 
this  horse  half  a  feed  of  corn,  then  some 
water,  then  the  other  half  feed ;  but  give 
him  nothing  until  you  have  cooled  him 
down.  Do  these  things,  and  I  present  you 
one  peseta.  Omit  any  of  them,  and  I 
give  you  nothing  at  all.  Is  that  a  bargain  ?" 

The  old  man  haled  off  the  horse,  mutter- 
ing that  it  would  be  a  bad  bargain  for  his 
Grace,  to  which  Manvers  replied  that  we 
should  see.  Then  he  went  into  the  Provi- 
dencia for  his  coffee  and  eggs. 


CHAPTER  in 

DIVERSIONS  OF  TRAVEL 

IF  SAHAGUN  puts  you  out  of  conceit 
with  Castile,  you  are  not  likely  to  be'  put 
in  again  by  Palencia ;  for  a  second  rate  town 
in  Castile  is  like  a  piece  of  the  plain  enclosed 
by  a  wall,  and  only  emphasises  the  desolation 
at  the  expense  of  the  freedom;  and  as  in  a 
windy  square  all  the  city  garbage  is  blown 
into  corners,  so  the  walled  town  seems  to 
collect  and  set  to  festering  the  disreputable 
creatures  of  the  waste. 

Mr.  Manvers,  his  meal  over,  hankered 
after  broad  spaces  again.  He  walked  the 
arcaded  streets  and  cursed  the  flies,  he 
entered  the  Cathedral  and  was  driven  out 
by  the  beggars.  He  leaned  over  the  bridge 
and  watched  the  green  river,  and  that  set 
him  longing  for  a  swim.  If  his  maps  told 
hhii  the  truth,  some  few  leagues  on  the  road 

21 


THE  SPANISH   JADE 


to  Valladolid  should  discover  him  a  fine 
wood,  the  wood  of  La  Huerca,  beyond 
which,  skirting  it,  in  fact,  should  be  the 
Pisuerga.  Here  he  could  bathe,  loiter 
away  the  noon,  and  take  his  merienda, 
which  should  be  the  best  Palencia  could 
supply. 

"  Muera  Marta, 
Y  muera  harta" 

"Let  Martha  die,  but  not  on  an  empty 
stomach,"  he  said  to  himself.  He  knew 
his  Don  Quixote  better  than  most  Span- 
iards. 

He  furnished  his  haversack,  then,  with 
bread,  ham,  sausages,  wine,  and  oranges, 
ordered  out  his  horse,  satisfied  himself  that 
the  ostler  had  earned  his  fee,  and  departed 
at  an  ambling  pace  to  seek  his  amusements. 
But,  though  he  knew  it  not,  the  finger  of 
fate  was  upon  him,  and  he  was  enjoying 
the  last  of  that  perfect  leisure  without  which 
travel,  love-making,  the  arts  and  sciences, 
or  the  rearing  of  a  family  are  but  weariness 
and  disgust.  Just  outside  the  gate  of 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


Palencia  he  had  an  adventure  which  occu- 
pied him  until  the  end  of  this  tale,  and, 
indeed,  some  way  beyond  it. 

The  Puerta  de  Valladolid  is  really  no  gate 
at  all,  but  a  gateway.  What  walls  it  may 
once  have  pierced  have  fallen  away  from 
it  in  their  fight  with  time,  and  now  but  tresses 
and  rubbish-heaps,  a  moat  of  blurred 
outline  and  much  filth  alone  testify  to  former 
pretensions.  Beyond  was  to  be  found  a 
sandy  waste,  miscalled  an  alameda,  a  lit- 
tered place  of  brown  grass,  dust,  and  loose 
stones,  fringed  with  parched  acacias  and 
diversified  by  hillocks,  upon  which,  in  for- 
mer days  of  strife,  standards  may  have  been 
placed,  mangonels  planted,  perhaps  Napo- 
leonic cannon. 

It  was  upon  one  of  these  mounds,  which 
was  shaded  by  a  tree,  that  Manvers  ob- 
served, and  paused  in  the  gateway  to 
observe,  the  doings  of  a  group  of  persons, 
some  seven  boys  and  lads,  and  a  girl.  A 
kind  of  uncouth  courtship  seemed  to  be  in 
progress,  or  (as  he  put  it)  the  holding  of  a 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


rude  court.  He  thought  to  see  a  Circe  of 
picaresque  Spain  with  her  swinish  rout 
about  her.  To  drop  metaphor,  the  young 
woman  sat  upon  the  hillock,  with  half  a 
dozen  tatterdemalions  round  her  in  various 
stages  of  amorous  enchantment. 

He  set  the  girl  down  for  a  gipsy,  for  he 
knew  enough  of  the  country  to  be  sure  that 
no  marriageable  maiden  of  worth  could  be 
courted  in  this  fashion.  Or  if  not  a  gipsy 
then  a  thing  of  naught,  to  be  pitied  if  the 
truth  were  known,  at  any  rate  to  be  skirted. 
Her  hair,  which  seemed  to  be  of  a  dusty 
gold  tinge,  was  knotted  up  in  a  red  hand- 
kerchief; her  gown  was  of  blue  faded  to 
green,  her  feet  were  bare.  If  a  gipsy,  she 
was  to  be  trusted  to  take  care  of  herself; 
if  but  a  sunburnt  vagrant  she  could  be  let 
to  shift;  and  yet  he  watched  her  curiously, 
while  she  sat  as  impassive  as  a  young  Sphinx, 
and  wondered  to  himself  why  he  did  it. 

Suppose  her  of  that  sort  you  may  see  any 
day  at  a  fair,  jigging  outside  a  booth  in  red 
bodice  and  spangles,  a  waif,  a  little  who- 


THE   SPANISH  JADE  25 

knows-who,  suppose  her  pretty  to  death  — 
what  is  she  even  then  but  an  iridescent 
bubble,  as  one  might  say,  thrown  up  by  some 
standing  pool  of  vice,  as  filmy,  very  nearly 
as  fleeting,  and  quite  as  poisonous  ?  It  struck 
him  as  he  watched — not  the  girl  in  partic- 
ular, but  a  whole  genus  centred  in  her  — 
as  really  extraordinary,  as  an  obliquity  of 
Providence,  that  such  ephemerids  must 
abound,  predestined  to  misery;  must  come 
and  sin,  and  wail  and  go,  with  souls  inside 
them  to  be  saved,  which  nobody  could  save, 
and  bodies  fair  enough  to  love,  which 
nobody  could  stoop  to  love.  Had  the 
scheme  of  our  Redemption  scope  enough  for 
this — for  this  trifle,  along  with  Santa  Teresa, 
and  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  and  Isabella  the 
Catholic?  He  perceived  himself  slipping 
into  the  sententious  on  slight  pretence  — 
but  presently  found  himself  engaged. 

Hatless,  shoeless,  and  coatless  were  the 
oafs  who  surrounded  the  object  of  his  specu- 
lations, some  lying  flat  with  elbows  for- 
ward and  chin  to  fist,  some  creeping  and 


26  THE  SPANISH   JADE 

scrambling  about  her  to  get  her  notice  or 
fire  her  into  a  rage,  some  squatting  at  an 
easy  distance  with  ribaldries  to  exchange. 
But  there  was  one,  sitting  a  little  above  her 
on  the  mound,  who  seemed  to  consider 
himself  in  a  sort  her  proprietor.  He  was 
master  of  the  pack,  warily  on  the  watch, 
able  by  position  and  strength  to  prevent 
what  he  might  at  any  moment  choose  to 
think  an  infringement  of  his  rights.  A 
sullen,  grudging,  silent,  and  jealous  dog, 
Manvers  saw  him,  and  asked  himself  how 
long  she  would  stand  it.  At  present  she 
seemed  unaware  of  her  surroundings. 

He  saw  that  she  sat  broodingly,  as  if 
ruminating  on  more  serious  things,  such  as 
famine  or  thirst,  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and 
her  face  in  her  two  hands.  That  was  the 
true  gipsy  attitude,  he  knew,  all  the  world 
over.  So  intent  she  was,  that  she  was 
careless  of  her  person,  careless  that  her 
bodice  was  open  at  the  neck,  and  that  more 
people  than  Manvers  were  aware  of  it.  A 
flower  was  in  her  mouth,  or  he  thought  so, 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  27 

judging  from  the  blot  of  scarlet  thereabouts; 
her  face  was  set  fixedly  toward  the  town 
-  too  fixedly  that  he  might  care  —  since 
she  cared  so  little  —  whether  she  saw  him 
there  or  not.  And  after  all,  not  she,  but 
the  manners  of  the  game  centred  about 
her,  was  what  mattered. 

Manners,  indeed!  The  fastidious  in  our 
young  man  was  all  on  edge;  he  became  a 
critic  of  Spain.  Where  in  England,  France, 
or  Italy  could  you  have  witnessed  such  a 
scene  as  this  ?  Or  what  people  but  the 
Spaniards  among  the  children  of  Noah 
know  themselves  so  certainly  lords  of  the 
earth  that  they  can  treat  women,  mules, 
prisoners,  Jews,  and  bulls  according  to  the 
caprices  of  appetite  ?  That  an  Italian 
should  make  public  display  of  his  property 
in  a  woman,  or  his  scorn  of  her,  was  a 
thing  unthinkable;  yet,  if  you  came  to 
consider  it,  so  it  was  that  a  Spaniard 
should  not.  Set  aside,  said  he  to  himself, 
the  grand  air,  and  what  has  the  Spaniard 
which  the  brutes  have  not? 


28  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Hotly  questioning  the  attendant  heavens, 
Manvers  saw  just  such  an  act  of  mastery, 
when  the  lumpish  fellow  above  the  girl 
put  his  hand  upon  her,  and  kept  it  there, 
and  the  others  thereupon  drew  back  and 
ceased  their  tricks,  as  if  admitting  posses- 
sion had  and  seisin  taken,  as  the  lawyers 
call  it.  To  Manvers  a  hateful  thing.  He 
felt  his  blood  surge  in  his  neck.  "Damn 

him!  I've  a  mind !  And  they  pray  to 

a  woman!" 

But  the  girl  did  nothing  —  neither  moved, 
nor  seemed  to  be  aware.  Then  the  drama 
suddenly  quickened,  the  actors  serried,  and 
the  acts,  down  to  the  climax,  followed  fast. 

Emboldened  by  her  passivity,  the  oaf 
advanced  by  inches,  visibly.  He  looked 
knowingly  about  him,  collecting  approval 
from  his  followers,  he  whispered  in  her  ear, 
hummed  gallant  airs,  regaled  the  company 
with  snatches  of  salt  song.  Fixed  as  the 
Sphinx  and  unfathomable,  she  sat  on  brood- 
ingly  until,  piqued  by  her  indifference, 
maybe,  or  swayed  by  some  wave  of  desire, 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  29 

he  caught  her  round  the  waist  and  buried 
his  face  in  her  neck  —  and  then,  all  at  once, 
she  awoke,  shivered,  and  collected  herself, 
without  warning  shook  herself  free,  and 
hit  her  bully  a  blow  on  the  nose  with  all 
her  force. 

He  reeled  back,  with  his  hands  to  his 
face;  the  blood  gushed  over  his  fingers. 
Then  all  were  on  their  feet  and  a  scuffle 
began,  the  most  unequal  you  can  con- 
ceive, and  the  most  impossible.  It  was 
all  against  one,  with  stones  flying  and 
imprecations  after  them,  and  in  the  midst 
the  tawny-haired  girl  fighting  like  one 
possessed. 

A  minute  of  this  —  hardly  so  much  — 
was  more  than  enough  for  Manvers,  who, 
when  he  could  believe  his  eyes,  pricked 
headlong  into  the  fray,  and  began  to  lay 
about  him  with  his  crop.  "Dogs,  sons  of 
dogs,  down  with  your  hands!"  he  cried,  in 
Spanish  which  was  fluent,  if  imaginative. 
But  his  science  with  the  whip  was  beyond 
dispute,  and  the  diversion,  coming  suddenly 


30  THE  SPANISH   JADE 

from    behind,    scattered    the    enemy    into 
headlong   flight. 

The  field  cleared,  the  girl  was  to  be  seen. 
She  lay  moaning  on  the  ground,  her  arms 
extended,  her  right  leg  twitching.  She 
was  bleeding  at  the  ear. 


CHAPTER  IV 

TWO  ON  HORSEBACK 

NOW  Manvers  was  under  fire,  for  the 
enemy,  reinforced  by  stragglers  from 
the  town,  had  unmasked  a  battery  of  stones, 
and  was  making  fine  practice  from  the 
ruins  of  the  wall.  He  was  hit  more  than 
once,  his  horse  more  than  he;  both  were 
exasperated,  and  he  in  particular  was 
furious  at  the  presence  of  spectators  who, 
comfortably  in  the  shade,  watched,  and  had 
been  watching,  the  whole  affair  with  envi- 
able detachment  of  mind  and  body.  With 
so  much  to  chafe  him,  he  may  be  pardoned 
for  some  irritability. 

He  dismounted  as  coolly  as  he  could, 
and  led  his  horse  about  to  cover  her  from 
the  stones.  "Come,"  he  said,  as  he  stooped 
to  touch  her,  "I  must  move  you  out  of  this. 
Saint  Stephen  —  blessed  young  man  —  has 

31 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


forestalled  this  means  of  going  to  heaven. 
Oh,  damn  the  stones!" 

He  used  no  ceremony,  but  picked  her 
up  as  if  she  had  been  a  dressmaker's  dummy, 
and  set  her  on  her  feet,  where,  after  sway- 
ing about,  and  some  balancing  with  her 
hands,  she  presently  steadied  herself,  and 
stood,  dazed  and  empty-eyed.  Her  cheek 
was  cut,  her  ear  was  bleeding;  her  hair  was 
down,  the  red  handkerchief  uncoiled;  her 
dusky  skin  was  stained  with  dirt  and 
scratches,  and  her  bosom  heaved  riotously 
as  she  caught  for  her  breath. 

'Take  your  time,  my  dear,"  said  Man- 
vers  kindly.  And  she  did,  by  tumbling 
into  his  arms.  Here  then  was  a  situation 
for  the  student  of  Manners;  a  brisk  dis- 
charge of  stones  from  an  advancing  line  of 
skirmishers,  a  strictly  impartial  crowd  of 
sightseers,  a  fidgety  horse,  and  himself  em- 
barrassed by  a  girl  in  a  faint. 

He  called  for  help  and,  getting  none, 
shook  his  fist  at  the  callous  devils  who 
ignored  him;  he  inspected  his  charge,  who 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  33 

looked  as  pure  as  a  child  in  her  swoon,  all 
her  troubles  forgotten  and  sins  blotted  out; 
he  inquired  of  the  skies,  as  if  hopeful  that 
the  ravens,  as  of  old,  might  bring  him  help ; 
at  last,  seeing  nothing  else  for  it,  he  picked 
up  the  girl  in  both  arms  and  pitched  her  on 
to  the  saddle.  There,  with  some  adjusting, 
he  managed  to  prop  her  while  he  led  the 
horse  slowly  away.  He  had  to  get  the  reins 
in  his  teeth  before  he  had  gone  ten  yards. 
The  retreat  began. 

It  was  within  two  hours  of  noon,  or  noth- 
ing had  saved  him  from  a  retirement  as 
harassing  as  Sir  John  Moore's.  It  was 
the  sun,  not  ravens,  that  came  to  his 
help.  Meantime  the  girl  had  recovered 
herself  somewhat  and,  when  they  were 
out  of  sight  of  the  town  and  its  inhabitants, 
showed  him  that  she  had  by  sliding  from 
the  saddle  and  standing  firmly  on  her  feet. 

"Hulloa!"  said  Manvers.  "What's  the 
matter  now  ?  Do  you  think  you  can  walk 
back  ?  You  can't  you  know."  He  addressed 
her  in  his  best  Castilian.  "I  am  afraid 


34  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

you  are  hurt.  Let  me  help  -  "  but  she 
held  him  off  with  a  stiffening  arm,  while 
she  wiped  her  face  with  her  petticoat,  and 
put  herself  into  some  sort  of  order.  She 
did  it  deftly  and  methodically,  with  the 
practised  hands  of  a  woman  used  to  the 
public  eye.  She  might  have  been  an  actress 
at  the  wings,  about  to  go  on.  Nor  would 
she  look  at  him  or  let  him  see  that  she  was 
aware  of  his  presence  until  all  was  in  order 
—  her  hair  twisted  into  the  red  handker- 
chief, the  neck  of  her  dress  pinned  together, 
her  torn  skirt  nicely  hung.  Her  coquetry,  her 
skill  in  adjusting  what  seemed  past  praying 
for,  her  pains  with  herself,  were  charming  to 
see  and  very  touching.  Manvers  watched 
her  closely,  and  could  not  deny  her  beauty. 
She  was  a  vivid  beauty,  fiercely  coloured, 
with  her  tawny  gold  hair,  sunburnt  skin, 
and  jade-green,  far-seeing  eyes,  her  coiled 
crimson  handkerchief  and  blue-green  gown. 
She  was  finely  made,  slim,  and  in  contour 
hardly  more  than  a  child;  and  yet  she 
seemed  to  him  very  mature,  a  practised 


35 


hand,  with  very  various  knowledge  deep 
in  her  eyes,  and  a  wide  acquaintance  behind 
her  quiet  lips.  With  her  re-ordered  toilet 
she  had  taken  on  self-possession  and  dignity, 
a  reserve  which  baffled  him.  Without  any 
more  reason  than  this  he  felt  for  her  a  kind 
of  respect  which  nothing,  certainly,  in 
what  he  had  seen  of  her  circumstances 
could  justify.  Yet  he  gave  her  her  title  — 
which  marks  his  feeling. 

"Senorita,"  he  said,  "I  wish  to  be  of 
service  to  vou.  Command  me.  Shall  I 

•/ 

take  you  back  to  Palencia?" 

She  answered  him  seriously.  "I  beg 
that  you  will  not,  sir." 

"If  you  have  friends '  he  began,  and 

she  said  at  once,  "I  have  none.'* 

"Or  parents?" 

"None." 

"Relatives?" 

"None,  none." 

"Then  your " 

"I  know  what  you  would  say.  I  have 
no  house." 


36  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"Then,"  said  Manvers,  looking  vaguely 
over  the  plain,  "what  do  you  wish  me  to  do 
for  you  ?" 

She  was  now  sitting  by  the  roadside,  very 
collectedly,  looking  down  at  her  hands  in 
her  lap.  "You  will  leave  me  here,  if  you 
must,"  she  said;  "but  I  would  ask  your 
charity  to  take  me  a  little  farther  from 
Palencia.  Nobody  has  ever  been  kind  to 
me  before."  She  said  this  quite  simply, 
as  if  stating  a  fact.  He  was  moved. 

"You   were   unhappy  in   Palencia?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  would  rather  be  left 
here."  The  enormous  plain  of  Castile, 
treeless,  sun-struck,  empty  of  living  thing, 
made  her  words  eloquent. 

"Absurd,"  said  Manvers.  "If  I  leave 
you  here  you  will  die." 

"In  Palencia,"  said  the  girl,  "I  cannot 
die."  And  then  her  grave  eyes  pierced 
him,  and  he  knew  what  she  meant. 

"Great  God!"  said  Manvers.  "Then 
I  shall  take  you  to  a  convent." 

She    nodded    her    head.     "Where    you 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  37 

will,  sir,"  she  replied.  Her  gravity,  far 
beyond  her  seeming  station,  gave  value 
to  her  confidence. 

"That  seems  to  me  the  best  thing  I  can 
do  with  you,"  Manvers  said;  "and  if  you 
don't  shirk  it  there  is  no  reason  why  I 
should.  Now,  can  you  stick  on  the  saddle 
if  I  put  you  up?" 

She  nodded  again.  "Up  you  go  then." 
He  would  have  swung  her  up  sideways, 
lady-fashion;  but  she  laughed  and  cried, 
"No,  no,"  put  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  her 
left  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  swung  herself  into 
the  saddle  as  neatly  as  a  groom.  There  she  sat 
astride,  like  a  circus-rider,  and  stuck  her  arm 
akimbo  as  she  looked  down  for  his  approval. 

"Bravo,"  said  Manvers.  'You  have 
been  a-horseback  before  this,  my  girl.  Now 
you  must  make  room  for  me."  He  got  up 
behind  her  and  took  the  reins  from  under 
her  arm.  With  the  other  arm  it  was  neces- 
sary to  embrace  her;  she  allowed  it  sedately. 
Then  they  ambled  off  together,  making  a 
Darby  and  Joan  affair  of  it. 


38  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

But  the  sun  was  now  close  upon  noon, 
burning  upon  them  out  of  a  sky  of  brass. 
There  was  no  wind,  and  the  flies  were 
maddening.  After  a  while  he  noticed  that 
the  girl  simply  stooped  her  head  to  the  heat, 
as  if  she  were  wilting  like  a  picked  flower. 
When  he  felt  her  heavy  on  his  arm  he  saw 
that  he  must  stop.  So  he  did,  and  plied 
her  with  wine  from  his  pocket-flask,  feeding 
her  drop  by  drop  as  she  lay  back  against 
him.  He  got  bread  out  of  his  haversack 
and  made  her  eat:  she  soon  revived,  and 
then  he  learned  the  fact  that  she  had  eaten 
nothing  since  yesterday's  noon.  "How 
should  I  eat,"  she  asked,  "when  I  have 
earned  nothing?" 

"Nohow,  but  by  charity,"  he  agreed. 
"Had  Palencia  no  compassion  ?"  She  grew 
dark  and  would  not  answer  him  at  first ;  pres- 
ently asked,  had  he  not  seen  Palencia? 

"I  agree,"  he  said.  "But  let  me  ask 
you,  without  indiscretion  if  I  may,  how  did 
you  propose  to  earn  your  bread  in  Palencia  ?" 

"I  would  have  worked  in  the  fields  for 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  39 

a  day,  sir,"  she   told  him,  "but  no  longer, 
for  I  have  to  get  on." 

"  Where  do  you  wish  to  go  ?" 

"Away  from  here." 

"To  Valladolid?" 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  —  her  head 
was  still  near  his  shoulder.  "To  Vallado- 
lid ?  Never  there." 

This  made  him  laugh.  "To  Palencia? 
Never  there.  To  Valladolid  ?  Never  there. 
Where  then,  lady  of  the  sea-green  eyes  ?" 

She  veiled  her  eyes  quickly.  "To  Ma- 
drid, I  suppose.  I  wish  to  work." 

"Can  you  find  work  there?" 

"Surely.     It  is  a  great  city." 

"Do  you  know  it?" 
'Yes,  I  was  there  long  ago." 

"What  did  you  do  there?" 

"I  worked.  I  was  very  well  there." 
She  sat  up  and  looked  back  over  his  shoul- 
der. She  had  done  that  once  or  twice 
before,  and  now  he  asked  her  what  she  was 
looking  for.  She  desisted  at  once :  "Noth- 
ing," was  her  answer. 


40  THE  SPANISH   JADE 

He  made  her  drink  from  the  flask  again 
and  gave  her  his  pocket  handkerchief  to 
cover  her  head.  When  she  understood 
she  laughed  at  him  without  disguise.  Did 
he  think  she  feared  the  sun  ?  She  bade 
him  look  at  her  neck  —  which  was  walnut 
brown,  and  sleek  as  satin;  but  when  he 
would  have  taken  back  his  handkerchief 
she  refused  it,  and  put  it  over  her  head 
like  a  hood,  and  tied  it  under  her  chin. 
She  then  turned  herself  round  to  face  him. 

"Is  it  so  you  would  have  it,  sir?"  she 
asked  and  looked  bewitching. 

"My  dear,"  said  Manvers,  "you  are  a 
beauty."  Shall  he  be  blamed  if  he  kissed 
her?  Not  by  me,  since  she  never  blamed 
him. 

Her  clear-seeing  eyes  searched  his  face; 
her  kissed  mouth  looked  very  serious,  and 
also  very  pure.  Then,  as  he  observed  her 
ardently,  she  coloured  and  looked  down, 
and  afterward  turned  herself  the  way  they 
were  to  go,  and  with  a  little  sigh  settled 
into  his  arm. 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  41 

Manvers  spurred  his  horse,  and  for  some 
time  nothing  was  said  between  them.  But 
he  was  of  a  talkative  habit,  with  a  trick 
of  conversing  with  himself  for  lack  of  a 
better  man.  He  asked  her  if  he  was  for- 
given, and  felt  her  answer  on  his  arm, 
though  she  gave  him  none  in  words.  This 
was  not  to  content  him.  "I  see  that  you 
will  not,"  he  said,  to  tease  her.  "Well,  I 
call  that  hard  after  my  stoning.  I  had 
believed  the  ladies  of  Spain  kinder  to  their 
cavaliers  than  to  grudge  a  kiss  for  a  cart- 
load of  stones  at  the  head.  Well,  well,  I  'm 
properly  paid.  Laws  go  as  kings  will,  I 
know.  God  help  poor  men!"  He  would 
have  gone  on  with  his  baiting  had  she  not 
surprised  him. 

She  turned  him  a  burning  face.  "Cab- 
allero,  caballero,  have  done!"  she  begged 
him.  ;<You  rescued  me  from  worse  than 
death  —  and  what  could  I  deny  you  ? 
See,  sir,  I  have  lived  fifteen,  seventeen  years 
in  the  world,  and  nobody  —  nobody,  I 
say  —  has  ever  done  me  a  kindness  before. 


42  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

And  you  think  that  I  grudge  you!"  She 
was  really  unhappy,  and  had  to  be  com- 
forted. 

They  became  close  friends  after  that. 
She  told  him  her  name  was  Manuela,  and 
that  she  was  a  Valencian  by  birth.  A 
Gitana?  No,  indeed.  She  was  a  Chris- 
tian. "You  are  a  very  bewitching  Chris- 
tian, Manuela,"  he  told  her,  and  drew  her 
face  back,  and  kissed  her  again.  I  am  told 
that  there's  nothing  in  kissing,  once:  it's 
the  second  that  counts.  In  the  very  act 
-  for  eyes  met  as  well  as  lips  —  he  noticed 
that  hers  wavered  on  the  way  to  his,  beyond 
him,  over  the  road  they  had  travelled;  and 
the  ceremony  over,  he  again  asked  her  why. 
She  passed  it  off  as  before  —  saying  that 
she  had  looked  at  nothing,  and  begged  him 
to  go  forward. 

Ahead  of  them  now,  through  the  crystal- 
line flicker  of  the  heat,  he  saw  the  dark  rim 
of  the  wood,  the  cork  forest  of  La  Huerca 
for  which  he  was  looking,  which  hid  the 
river  from  'his  aching  eyes.  No  foot-burnt 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  43 

wanderer  in  Sahara  ever  hailed  his  oasis 
with  heartier  thanksgiving;  but  it  was  still 
a  league  and  a  half  away.  He  addressed 
himself  to  the  task  of  reaching  it,  and  we 
may  suppose  Manuela  respected  his  efforts. 
At  any  rate,  there  was  silence  between  the 
pair  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour  —  what 
time  the  unwinking  sun,  vertically  over- 
head, deprived  them  of  so  much  as  the  sight 
of  their  own  shadows,  and  drove  the  very 
crows  with  wings  adust  to  skulk  in  the 
furrows.  The  shrilling  of  crickets,  the 
stumbling  hoofs  of  an  overtaxed  horse, 
and  the  creaking  of  saddle  and  girth  made 
a  din  in  the  deadly  stillness  of  this  fervent 
noon,  and,  since  there  was  no  other  sound 
to  be  heard,  it  is  hard  to  tell  how  Manvers 
was  aware  of  a  traveller  behind  him,  unless 
he  was  served  by  the  sixth  sense  we  ail  have, 
to  warn  us  that  we  are  not  alone. 

Sure  enough,  when  he  looked  over  his 
shoulder  he  was  aware  of  a  donkey  and  his 
rider  drawing  smoothly  and  silently  near. 
The  pair  of  them  were  so  nearly  of  the  colour 


44  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

of  the  ground,  he  had  to  look  long  to  be 
sure;  and,  as  he  looked,  Manuela  suddenly 
leaned  sideways  and  saw  what  he  saw.  It 
was  just  as  if  she  had  received  a  stroke  of 
the  sun.  She  stiffened;  he  felt  the  thrill 
go  through  her;  and  when  she  resumed  her 
first  position  she  was  another  person. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  AMBIGUOUS  THIRD 

GOD  save  your  grace,"  said  Esteban; 
for  it  was  he  who,  sitting  well  back 
upon  his  donkey's  rump,  with  exceedingly 
bright  eyes  and  a  cheerful  grin,  now  forged 
level  with  Manvers  and  his  burdened  steed. 
Manvers  gave  him  a  curt  good  day,  and 
thought  him  an  impudent  fellow — which  was 
not  justified  by  anything  Esteban  had  done. 
He  had  been  discretion  itself;  and,  indeed, 
to  his  eyes  there  had  been  nothing  of  neces- 
sity remarkable  in  the  pair  on  the  horse. 
If  a  lady  —  duchess  or  baggage  —  happened 
to  be  sharing  the  gentleman's  saddle,  an 
arrangement  must  be  presumed,  which  could 
not  possibly  concern  himself.  That  is  the 
reasonable  standpoint  of  a  people  who  mind 
their  own  business  and  credit  their  neigh- 
bours with  the  same  preoccupation. 

45 


46  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

But  Manvers  was  an  Englishman  and 
could  not  for  the  life  of  him  consider 
Esteban  as  anything  but  a  puppy  for  seeing 
him  in  a  compromising  situation.  So  much 
was  he  annoyed  that  he  did  not  remark  any 
longer  that  Manuela  was  another  person, 
sitting  stiffly,  strained  against  his  arm, 
every  muscle  on  the  stretch,  as  taut  as  a 
ship's  cable  in  the  tideway,  her  face  in  rigid 
profile  to  the  newcomer. 

Esteban  was  in  no  way  put  out.  "  Many 
good  days  light  upon  your  grace!"  he  cheer- 
fully repeated  —  so  cheerfully  that  Manvers 
was  appeased. 

"Good  day,  good  day  to  you,"  he  said. 
"You  ride  light  and  I  ride  heavy,  otherwise 
you  had  not  overtaken  us." 

Esteban  showed  his  fine  teeth,  and  waved 
his  hand  toward  the  hazy  distance;  from 
the  tail  of  his  eye  he  watched  Manuela  in 
profile.  "Who  knows  that,  sir?  Lo  que 
ha  de  ser  —  as  we  say.  Ah,  who  knows 
that  ?"  Manuela  strained  her  face  forward. 

"Well,"  said  Manvers,  "I  do,  for  exam- 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  47 

pie.  I  have  proved  my  horse.  He 's  a 
Gallician,  and  a  good  goer.  It  would  want 
a  brave  borico  to  outpace  him." 

Esteban  slipped  into  the  axiomatic,  as 
all  Spaniards  will.  "There's  a  providence 
of  the  road,  sir,  and  a  saint  in  charge  of 
travellers.  And  we  know,  sir,  a  coda 
puerco  viene  su  San  Martin."  Manuela 
stooped  her  body  forward,  and  peered 
ahead,  as  one  strains  to  see  in  the  dark. 

'Your  proverb  is  oddly  chosen,  it  seems 
to  me,"  said  Manvers.  Esteban  gave  a 
little  chuckle  from  his  throat. 

"A  proverb  is  a  stone  flung  into  a  pack 
of  starlings.  It  may  scare  the  most,  but 
may  hit  one.  By  mine  I  referred  to  the 
ways  of  providence,  under  a  figure.  Destiny 
is  always  at  work." 

"No  doubt,"  said  Manvers,  slightly  bored. 

"It  might  have  been  your  destiny  to  have 
outpaced  me:  the  odds  were  with  you.  On 
the  other  hand,  as  you  have  not,  it  must 
have  been  mine  to  have  overtaken  you." 

"You  are  a  philosopher  ?"  asked  Manvers, 


48  THE  SPANISH   JADE 

fatigue  deliberately  in  his  voice.  Esteban's 
eyes  shone  intensely:  he  had  marked  the 
changed  inflection. 

"I  studied  the  Humanities  at  Salamanca," 
he  said  carelessly.  "That  was  when  I 
was  an  innocent.  Since  then  I  have  learned 
in  a  harder  school.  I  am  learning  still  — • 
every  day  I  learn  something  new.  I  am 
a  gentleman  born,  as  your  grace  has  per- 
ceived, why  not  a  philosopher  ?" 

Manvers  was  rather  ashamed  of  himself. 
"Of  course,  of  course!  Why  not  indeed? 
I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  while  our  ways 
coincide." 

Esteban  raised  his  battered  straw, 
kiss  the  feet  of  your  grace,  and  hope  your 
grace's  lady,"  Manuela  quivered,  "is 
not  disturbed  by  my  company;  for  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  sir,  I  propose  to  enjoy  your 
own  as  long  as  you  and  she  are  agreeable. 
I  am  used  to  companionship."  He  shot 
a  keen  glance  at  Manuela,  who  never  moved. 

"She  will  speak  for  herself,  no  doubt," 
said  Manvers;  but  she  did  not.  The  gleam 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  49 

in  Esteban's  light  eyes  gave  point  to  his 
next  speech. 

"I  have  a  notion  that  the  seiiora  is  not 
of  your  mind,  sir,"  he  said,  "and  am  sorry. 
I  can  hardly  remain  as  an  unwelcome  third 
in  a  journey.  It  would  be  a  satisfaction 
to  me  if  the  seiiora  would  assure  me  that 
I  am  wrong."  Manuela  now  turned  her 
head  with  an  effort  and  looked  down  upon 
the  grinning  youth. 

"Why  should  I  care  whether  you  stay 
or  go  ?"  she  said.  Her  eyelids  flickered 
over  her  eyes  as  though  he  were  dust  in 
their  light.  He  showed  his  teeth. 

"Why  indeed,  senora?  God  knows  I 
have  no  reputation  to  bring  you,  though  the 
company  of  a  gentleman,  the  son  of  a 
gentleman,  never  comes  amiss,  they  say. 
But  two  is  company,  and  three  is  a  fair. 
I  have  found  it  so,  and  so  doubtless  has 
your  ladyship." 

She  made  him  no  answer,  and  had  turned 
away  her  face  long  before  he  had  finished. 
After  that  the  conversation  was  mainly  of 


50  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

his  making;  for  Manuela  would  say  nothing, 
and  Manvers  had  nothing  to  say.  The  cork 
wood  was  plain  in  front  of  him  now;  he 
thanked  God  for  the  prospect  of  food  and 
rest.  In  fifteen  minutes,  thought  he,  he 
should  be  swimming  in  the  Pisuerga. 

The  forest  began  tentatively,  with  heath, 
sparse  trees,  and  mounds  of  cistus  and 
bramble.  Manvers  followed  the  road, 
which  ran  through  a  portion  of  it,  until  he 
saw  the  welcome  thickets  on  either  hand, 
deep  tunnels  of  dark,  and  shadowy  places 
where  the  sun  could  not  stab ;  then  he  turned 
aside  over  the  broken  ground,  and  Esteban's 
donkey  picked  a  dainty  way  behind  him. 
When  he  had  reached  what  seemed  to  him 
perfection,  he  pulled  up. 

"Now,  young  lady,"  he  said.  "I  will 
give  you  food  and  drink,  and  then  you 
shall  go  to  sleep,  and  so  will  I.  After- 
ward we  will  consider  what  had  best  be 
done  with  you." 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  replied  in  a  whisper. 
Manvers  dismounted  and  held  out  his  hand 


THE  SPANISH  JADE  51 

to  her.  There  was  no  more  coquetting 
with  the  saddle.  She  scarcely  touched 
his  hand,  and  did  not  once  lift  her  eyes  to 
him  —  but  he  was  busy  with  his  haversack 
and  had  no  thoughts  for  her. 

Esteban  meantime  sat  the  donkey,  look- 
ing gravely  at  his  company,  blinking  his 
eyes,  smiling  quietly,  recurring  now  and 
then  to  the  winding  minor  air  which  had 
been  in  his  head  all  day.  He  was  perfectly 
unhampered  by  any  doubts  of  his  welcome, 
and  watched  with  serious  attention  the 
preparations  for  a  meal  in  the  open  which 
Manvers  was  making  with  the  ease  and 
dispatch  of  one  versed  in  camps. 

Ham  and  sausage,  rolls  of  bread,  a 
lettuce,  oranges,  cheese,  dates,  a  bottle  of 
wine,  another  of  water,  salt,  olives,  a  knife 
and  fork,  a  plate,  a  corkscrew ;  every  article 
was  in  its  own  paper,  some  were  marked 
in  pencil,  what  they  were.  All  were  spread 
out  upon  a  horse-blanket;  in  good  enough 
order  for  a  field-inspection.  Nothing  was 
wanting,  and  Esteban  was  as  keen  as  a 


52  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

wolf.     Even   Manvers    rubbed    his   hands. 
He  looked  shrewdly  at  his  neighbour. 

"Good  aljorjas,  eh?" 

"  Excellent    indeed,    sir,"    said    Esteban  , 
hoarsely.     It  was  hard  to  see  this  food,  and 
know  that  he  could  not  eat  of  it.      Manuela 
was  sitting  under  a  tree,    her  face  in  her 
hands. 

" How  far  away,"  said  Manvers,  "is  the 
water,  do  you  suppose  ?" 

"  The  water  ?  "  Esteban  collected  himself 
with  a  start.  "  The  water  ?"  He  jerked  his 
head  toward  the  display  on  the  blanket. 
"It  is  under  your  hand,  caballero.  That 
bottle  I  take  it,  holds  water." 

Manvers  laughed.  'Yes,  yes.  I  mean 
the  river.  I  am  going  to  swim  in  the 
river.  Don't  wait  for  me."  He  turned  to 
the  girl.  "Take  some  food,  my  friend. 
I'll  be  back  before  long." 

Her  swift  transitions  bewildered  him. 
She  showed  him  now  a  face  of  extreme 
terror.  She  was  on  her  feet  in  a  moment, 
rigid,  and  her  eyes  were  so  pale  that  her 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  53 

face  looked  empty  of  eyes,  like  a  mask. 
What  on  earth  was  the  matter  with  her? 
He  understood  her  to  be  saying,  "I  must 
go  where  you  go.  I  must  never  leave 
you,"  words  like  that;  but  they  came 
from  her  mouthed  rather  than  voiced,  as 
the  babbling  of  a  mad  woman.  All  that 
was  clear  was  that  she  was  beside  herself 
with  fright.  Looking  to  Esteban  for  an 
explanation,  he  surprised  a  triumphant 
gleam  in  that  youth's  light  eyes,  and  saw 
him  grinning  —  as  a  dog  grins,  with  the 
lip  curled  back. 

But  Esteban  spoke.  "I  think  the  lady 
is  right,  sir.  Affection  is  a  beautiful  thing." 
He  added  politely,  "The  loss  will  be  mine." 

Manvers  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
of  these  curious  persons  so  clearly  con- 
scious of  each  other,  yet  so  strict  to  avoid 
recognition.  His  eyes  rested  on  Manuela. 
"What's  the  matter,  my  child?"  She 
met  his  glance  furtively,  as  if  afraid  that 
he  was  angry;  plainly  she  was  ashamed 
of  her  panic.  Her  eyes  were  now  col- 


54  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

lected,  her  brow  cleared  and  the  tension 
of  her  arms  relaxed. 

"Nothing  is  the  matter,"  she  said  in  a 
low  voice.  "I  will  stay  here."  She  was 
shaking  still;  she  held  herself  with  both 
her  hands,  and  shook  the  more. 

"I  think  that  you  are  knocked  over  by 
the  heat  and  all  the  rest  of  your  troubles," 
said  Manvers,  "and  I  don't  wonder.  Re- 
pose yourself  here  —  eat  —  drink.  Don't 
spare  the  victuals,  I  beg.  And  as  for  you, 
my  brother,  I  invite  you,  too,  to  eat  what 
you  please.  And  I  place  this  young  lady 
in  your  charge.  Don't  forget  that.  She  's 
had  a  fright,  and  good  reason  for  it ;  she 's 
been  hurt.  I  leave  her  in  your  care,  with 
every  confidence  that  you  will  protect 
her." 

Every  word  spoken  was  absorbed  by 
Esteban  with  immense  relish.  The  words 
pleased  him,  to  begin  with,  by  their  Spanish 
ring.  Manvers  had  been  pleased  himself. 
It  was  the  longest  speech  he  had  yet  made 
in  Castilian;  but  he  had  no  notion,  of 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  55 

course,  how  exquisitely  apposite  to  the 
situation  they  were. 

Esteban  became  superb.  He  rose  to  the 
height  of  the  argument,  and  to  that  of 
his  inches,  took  off  his  old  hat  and  held  it 
out  the  length  of  his  arm.  "Let  the  lady 
fear  nothing,  senor  caballero  of  my  soul.  I 
engage  the  honour  of  a  gentleman  that  she 
shall  have  every  consideration  at  my  hands 
which  her  virtues  merit.  No  more"-  -  he 
looked  at  the  sullen  beauty  between  him 
and  the  Englishman —  "No  more,  for  that 
would  be  idolatrous;  and  no  less,  for 
that  would  be  injustice.  Vaya,  caballero, 
vaya  Vd.  con  Dios." 

Manvers   nodded   and    strolled   away. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  SPANISH  CHAPTER 

HIS   removal  snapped   a  chain.    These 
two  persons  became  themselves. 

Manuela  with  eyes  ablaze  strode  over 
to  Esteban.  "Well,"  she  said.  "You 
have  found  me.  What  is  your  pleasure  ?" 

He  sat  very  still  on  his  donkey,  watching 
her.  He  rolled  himself  a  cigarette,  still 
watching,  and  as  he  lighted  it,  looked  at 
her  over  the  flame. 

"Speak,  Esteban,"  she  said  quivering; 
but  he  took  two  luxurious  inhalations 
first,  discharged  in  dense  columns  through 
his  nose.  Then  said,  breathing  smoke, 
"I  have  come  to  kill  you,  Manuelita - 
from  Pobledo  in  a  day  and  a  half." 

She  had  folded  her  arms,  and  now 
nodded.  "I  know  it.  I  have  expected  you." 

"Of     course,"     said    Esteban,    inhaling 

56 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  57 

enormously.  He  shot  the  smoke  upward 
toward  the  light,  where  it  floated  and 
spread  out  in  radiant  bars  of  blue.  Manuela 
was  tapping  her  foot. 

"Well,  I  am  here,"  she  said.  "I  might 
have  left  you,  but  I  have  not.  Why  don't 
you  do  what  you  intended  ?" 

'There  is  plenty  of  time,"  said  Esteban, 
and  continued  to  smoke.  He  began  to 
make  another  cigarette. 

"Do  you  know  why  I  chose  to  stay  with 
you?"  she  asked  him  softly.  "Do  you 
know,  Esteban  ?" 

He  raised  his  eyebrows.     "Not  at   all." 

"  It  was  because  I  had  a  bargain  to  make 
with  you." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly;  but  he 
shrugged:  "It  will  be  a  hard  bargain  for 
you,  my  girl,"  he  told  her. 

"I  believe  you  will  agree  to  it,"  she  said 
quickly,  "seeing  that  of  my  own  will  I 
have  remained  here.  I  will  let  you  kill 
me  as  you  please  —  on  a  condition." 

"Name   your  condition,"  said  Esteban. 


58  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"I  will  only  say  now  that  it  is  my  wish  to 
strangle  you  with  my  hands." 

She  put  both  hers  to  her  throat.  "  Good," 
she  said.  "That  shall  be  your  affair. 
But  let  the  caballero  go  free.  He  has 
done  you  no  harm." 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Esteban.  "I 
shall  certainly  kill  him  when  he  returns. 
Have  no  doubt  of  that  —  and  then  I  shall 
have  his  horse." 

Immediately,  without  fear,  she  went 
up  to  him  where  he  sat  his  donkey.  She 
saw  the  knife  in  his  /aja,  but  had  no  fear 
at  all.  She  came  quite  close  to  him,  with 
an  ardent  face,  with  eyes  alight.  She 
stretched  out  her"arms  like  a  man  on  a  cross. 

"Kill,  kill,  Esteban!  But  listen  first. 
You  shall  spare  that  gentleman's  life,  for 
he  has  done  you  no  wrong." 

He  laughed  her  down.  "Wrong!  And 
you  come  to  me  to  swear  that  on  the  Cross 
of  Christ?  Daughter  of  swine,  you  lie." 

Tears  were  in  her  eyes,  which  made 
her  blink  and  shake  her  head  —  but  she 


59 


came  closer  yet  in  a  passion  of  entreaty. 
She  was  so  close  that  her  bosom  touched 
him.  "Kill,  Esteban,  kill  —  but  love  me 
first!"  Her  arms  were  about  him  now, 
as  if  she  must  have  love  of  him  or  die. 
"Esteban,  Esteban!"  she  was  whispering  as 
if  she  hungered  and  thirsted  for  him.  He 
shivered  at  a  memory.  "Love  me  once,  love 
me  once,  Esteban!"  Close  and  closer  she 
clung  to  him;  her  eyes  implored  a  kiss. 

"Loose  me,  you  jade,"  he  said,  less 
sharply,  but  she  clove  the  closer  to  him, 
and  one  hand  crept  downward  from  his 
shoulder,  as  if  she  would  embrace  him  by 
the  middle.  "Too  late,  Manuelita,  too 
late,"  he  said  again,  but  he  was  plainly 
softening.  She  drew  his  face  toward  hers 
as  if  to  kiss  him,  then  whipped  the  long 
knife  out  of  his  girdle  and  drove  it  with 
all  her  sobbing  force  into  his  neck.  Esteban 
uttered  a  thick  groan,  threw  his  head  up 
and  rocked  twice.  Then  his  head  dropped, 
and  he  fell  sideways  off  his  donkey. 

She  stood  staring  at  what  she  had  done. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SLEEPER  AWAKENED 

MANVERS  returned  whistling  from  his 
bath,  at  peace  with  all  the  world  of 
Spain,  in  a  large  mood  of  benevolence  and 
charitable  judgment.  His  mind  dwelt 
pleasantly  on  Manuela,  but  pity  mixed  with 
his  thought;  and  he  added  some  prudence 
on  his  own  account.  "That  child  —  she's 
no  more  —  I  must  do  something  for  her. 
Not  a  bad  'un,  I  '11  swear,  not  funda- 
mentally bad.  I  don't  doubt  her  as  I 
doubt  the  male :  too  glib  by  half.  She 's 
distractingly  pretty —  what  nectarine  colour! 
The  mouth  of  a  child  —  that  droop  at 
the  corners  —  and  as  soft  as  a  child's  too." 
He  shook  his  head.  "No  more  kissing,  or 
I  shall  be  in  a  mess." 

When  he  reached  his  tree  and  his  lunch- 
eon, to  find  his  companions  gone,  he  was 

60 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  61 

a  little  taken  aback.  His  genial  proposals 
were  suddenly  chilled.  "  Queer  couple 
- 1  had  a  notion  that  they  knew  something 
of  each  other.  So  they  've  made  a  match 
of  it." 

Then  he  saw  a  brass  crucifix  lying 
in  the  middle  of  his  plate.  "Hulloa!" 
he  stooped  to  pick  it  up.  It  was  still 
warm.  He  smiled  and  felt  a  glow  come 
back.  "Now  that  's  charming  of  her. 
That  's  a  pretty  touch — from  a  pretty  girl. 
She's  no  baggage,  depend  upon  it."  The 
string  had  plainly  hung  the  thing  round 
her  neck,  the  warmth  was  that  of  her 
bosom.  He  held  it  tenderly  while 
he  turned  it  about.  "I  '11  warrant  now 
that  was  all  she  had  upon  her.  Not  a 
maravedi  beside.  I  know  it 's  the  last 
thing  to  leave  'em.  I  'm  repaid,  more 
than  repaid.  I  '11  wear  you  for  a  bit,  my 
friend,  if  you  won't  scorch  a  heretic." 
Here  he  slipped  the  string  over  his  head, 
and  dropped  the  cross  within  his  collar. 
"I  '11  treat  you  to  a  chain  in  Valladolid," 


62  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

was  his  final  thought  before  he  consigned 
Manuela  to  his  cabinet  of  memories. 

He  poured  and  drank,  hacked  at  his 
ham-bone  and  ate.  "By  the  Lord,"  he 
went  on  commenting,  "they've  not  had 
bite  or  sup.  Too  busy  with  their  match- 
making? Too  delicate  to  feast  without 
invitation  ?  Which  ?"  He  pondered  the 
puzzle.  He  had  invited  Manuela,  he  was 
sure;  had  he  included  her  swam?  If  not, 
the  thing  was  clear.  She  would  n't  eat 
without  him,  and  he  could  n't  eat  without 
his  host.  It  was  the  best  thing  he  knew 
of  Esteban. 

He  finished  his  meal,  filled  and  lit  a 
pipe,  smoked  half  'of  it  drowsily,  then  lay 
and  slept.  Nothing  disturbed  his  three 
hours'  rest,  not  even  the  gathering  cloud 
of  flies,  whose  droning  over  a  neighbouring 
thicket  must  have  kept  awake  a  lighter 
sleeper.  But  Manvers  was  so  fast  that 
he  did  not  hear  footsteps  in  the  road,  nor 
the  sound  of  picking  in  the  peaty  ground. 

It   was  four  o'clock  and  more  when  he 


THE   SPANISH  JADE  63 

awoke,  sat  up,  and  looked  at  his  watch. 
Yawning  and  stretching  at  ease,  he  then 
became  aware  of  a  friar,  with  a  brown 
shaven  head  and  fine  black  beard,  who 
was  digging  near  by.  This  man,  whose 
eyes  had  been  upon  him,  waiting  for  recog- 
nition, immediately  stopped  his  toil,  struck 
his  spade  into  the  ground,  and  came 
toward  him,  bowing  as  he  came. 

"Good  evening,  senor  caballero,"  he 
said.  "I  am  Fray  Juan  de  la  Cruz,  at 
your  service;  from  the  convent  of  N.  S. 
de  la  Pefia  near  by.  I  have  to  be  my 
own  grave-digger;  but  will  you  be  so 
obliging  as  to  commit  the  body  while  I 
read  the  office?" 

To  this  abrupt  invitation  Manvers  could 
only  reply  by  staring.  Fray  Juan  apolo- 
gised. 

"I  imagined  that  you  had  perceived 
my  business,"  he  said,  "which  truly  is 
none  of  yours.  It  will  be  an  act  of  charity 
on  your  part  —  therefore  its  own  reward." 

"May  I    ask  you,"  said  Manvers,  now 


64  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

on  his  feet,  "what,  or  whom,  you  are 
burying  ?" 

"Come,"  the  friar  replied.  "I  will  show 
you  the  body."  Manvers  followed  him 
into  the  thicket. 

"Good  God,  what's  this?"  The  star- 
ing light  eyes  of  Esteban  Vincaz  had  no 
reply  for  him.  He  had  to  turn  away,  sick  at 
the  sight. 

Fray  Juan  de  la  Cruz  told  him  what  he 
knew.  A  young  girl,  riding  an  ass,  had 
come  to  the  church  of  the  convent,  where 
he  happened  to  be,  cleaning  the  sanctuary. 
The  Reverend  Prior  was  absent,  the  broth- 
ers were  afield.  She  was  in  haste,  she 
said,  and  the  matter  would  not  allow  of 
delay.  She  reported  that  she  had  killed 
a  man  in  the  wood  of  La  Huerca,  to  save 
the  life  of  a  gentleman  who  had  been  kind 
to  her,  who  had,  indeed,  but  recently 
imperilled  his  own  for  hers.  "If  you 
doubt  me,"  she  had  said,  "go  to  the  forest 
to  such  and  such  a  part.  There  you  will 
find  the  gentleman  asleep.  He  has  a 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  65 

crucifix  of  mine.  The  dead  man  lies 
not  far  away,  with  his  own  knife  near 
him,  with  which  I  killed  him.  Now,"  she 
had  said,  "  I  trust  you  to  report  all  I 
have  said  to  that  gentleman,  for  I  must 
be  off." 

"Good    God!"    said    Manvers    again. 

"God  indeed  is  the  only  good,"  said 
Fray  Juan,  "and  His  ways  past  finding 
out.  But  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  this 
girl's  story.  She  told  me,  moreover,  the 
name  of  the  man  —  or  his  names,  as  you 
may  say." 

"Had  he  more  than  one  then?"  Manvers 
asked  him,  but  without  interest.  The 
dead  was  nothing  to  him,  but  the  deed 
was  much.  This  wild  girl,  who  had  been 
sleek  and  kissing  but  a  few  hours  before, 
now  stood  robed  in  tragic  weeds,  fell  pur- 
pose in  her  green  eyes!  And  her  child's 
mouth  —  stretched  to  murder!  And  her 
youth  —  hardy  enough  to  stab! 

"The  unfortunate  young  man,"  said 
Fray  Juan,  "was  the  son  of  a  more  unfortu- 


THE   SPANISH  JADE 


nate  father;  but  the  name  that  he  used 
was  not  that  of  his  house.  His  father, 
it  seems "  but  Manvers  stopped  him. 

"Excuse  me  —  I  don't  care  about  his 
father  or  his  names.  Tell  me  anything 
more  that  the  girl  had  to  say." 

"I  have  told  you  everything,  sefior 
caballero,"  said  Fray  Juan;  "and  I  will 
only  add  that  you  are  not  to  suppose  that 
I  am  violating  the  confidences  of  God. 
Far  from  that.  She  made  no  confession 
in  the  true  sense,  though  she  promised  me 
that  she  would  not  fail  to  do  so  at  the 
earliest  moment.  I  had  it  urgently  from 
herself  that  I  should  seek  you  out  with  her 
tale,  and  rehearse  it  to  you.  In  justice  to 
her,  I  am  now  to  ask  you  if  it  is  true,  so 
far  as  you  are  concerned  in  it." 

Manvers  replied,  "It's  perfectly  true. 
I  found  her  in  bad  company  at  Palencia; 
a  pack  of  ruffians  was  about  her,  and  she 
might  have  been  killed.  I  got  her  out  of 
their  hands,  knocked  about  and  wounded, 
and  brought  her  so  far  on  the  road  to  the 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  67 

first  convent  I  could  come  at.  That 
poor  devil  there  overtook  us  about  a  league 
from  the  wood.  She  had  nothing  to  say 
to  him,  nor  he  to  her,  but  I  remember 
noticing  that  she  did  n't  seem  happy  after 
he  had  joined  us.  He  had  been  her  lover, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"She  gave  me  to  understand  that," 
said  Fray  Juan  gravely.  Manvers  here 
started  at  a  memory. 

"By  the  Lord,"  he  cried,  "I  '11  tell  you 
something.  When  we  got  to  the  wood, 
I  wanted  to  bathe  in  the  river,  and  was 
going  to  leave  those  two  together.  Well, 
she  was  in  a  taking  about  that.  She  wanted 
to  come  with  me  —  there  was  something 
of  a  scene."  He  recalled  her  terror,  and 
Esteban's  snarling  lip.  "I  might  have 
saved  all  this  —  but  how  was  I  to  know  ? 
I  blame  myself.  But  what  puzzles  me 
still  is  why  the  man  should  have  wanted 
my  life.  Can  you  explain  that? 

Fray  Juan  was  discreet.  "Robbery," 
he  suggested,  but  Manvers  laughed. 


68  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"I  travel  light,"  he  said.  "He  must 
have  seen  that  I  was  not  his  game.  No, 
no,"  he  shook  his  head.  "It  could  n't  have 
been  robbery." 

Fray  Juan,  I  say,  was  discreet;  and  it 
was  no  business  of  his.  But  it  was  certainly 
in  his  mind  to  say  that  Esteban  need  not 
have  been  the  robber,  nor  Manvers's  port- 
manteau the  booty.  However,  he  was 
silent,  until  the  Englishman  muttered,  "  God 
in  heaven,  what  a  country!"  and  then  he 
took  up  his  parable. 

"All  countries  are  very  much  the  same, 
as  I  take  it,  since  God  made  them  all 
together,  and  put  man  up  to  be  the  master 
of  them,  and  took  the  woman  out  of  his 
side  to  be  his  blessing  and  curse  at  once. 
The  place  whence  she  was  taken,  they  say, 
can  never  fully  be  healed  until  she  is 
restored  to  it;  and  when  that  is  done,  it  is 
not  a  certain  cure.  Such  being  the  plan 
of  this  world,  it  does  not  become  us  to 
quarrel  with  its  manifestations  here  or 
there.  Senor  caballero,  if  you  are  ready 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  69 

I  will  proceed.  Assistance  at  the  feet,  a 
handful  of  earth  at  the  proper  moment  are 
all  I  shall  ask  of  you."  He  slipped  a 
surplice  over  his  head.  The  office  was 
said. 

"Fray  Juan,"  said  Manvers  at  the  end, 
"will  you  take  this  trifle  from  me?  A 
mass,  I  suppose,  for  that  poor  devil's  soul 
would  not  come  amiss." 

Fray  Juan  took  that  as  a  sign  of  grace, 
and  was  glad  that  he  had  held  his  tongue. 
"Far  from  it,"  he  said,  "it  would  be 
extremely  proper.  It  shall  be  offered,  I 
promise  you." 

"Now,"  said  Manvers  after  a  pause, 
"I  wonder  if  you  can  tell  me  this.  Which 
way  did  she  go  off?" 

Fray  Juan  shook  his  head.  "No  lo  se. 
She  came  to  me  in  the  church,  and  spoke, 
and  passed  like  the  angel  of  death.  May 
she  go  with  God!" 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Manvers.  Then  he 
looked  into  the  placid  face  of  the  brown 
friar.  "But  I  must  find  her  somehow." 


70  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

Upon  that  addition  he  shut  his  mouth  with 
a  snap.  The  survey  which  he  had  to  endure 
from  Fray  Juan's  patient  eyes  was  the  best 
answer  to  it. 

"Oh,  but  I  must,  you  know,"  he  said. 

"Better  not,  my  son,"  said  Fray  Juan. 
"It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  seen  enough. 
Your  motives  will  be  misunderstood." 

Manvers  laughed.  "They  are  rather 
obscure  to  me  —  but  I  can't  let  her  pay 
for  my  fault." 

"You  may  make  her  pay  double,"  said 
Fray  Juan. 

"No,"  said  Manvers  decisively,  "I  won't. 
It's  my  turn  to  pay  now." 

The  Friar  shrugged.  "It  is  usually  the 
woman  who  pays.  But,  lo  que  ha  de 
ser  .  .  .  /" 

The  everlasting  phrase!  :'That  proverb 
serves  you  well  in  Spain,  Fray  Juan," 
said  Manvers,  who  was  in  a  staring  fit. 

"It  is  all  we  have,  that  matters.  Other 
nations  have  to  learn  it;  here  we 
know  it." 


THE  SPANISH  JADE  71 

Manvers  mounted  his  horse  and,  stoop- 
ing from  the  saddle,  offered  his  hand. 
"Adios,  Fray  Juan." 

"Vaya  Vd.  con  Dios!"  said  the  friar 
and  watched  him  away.  "  Pobrecita  /"  he 
said  to  himself  —  "unhappy  Manuela!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

REFLECTIONS  OF  AN  ENGLISHMAN 

BUT  Manvers  was  well  upon  his  wayv 
riding  with  squared  jaw,  with  rein 
and  spur  toward  Valladolid.  He  neither 
whistled  nor  chanted  to  the  air;  he  was. 
vacuus  viator  no  longer,  travelled  not  for 
pleasure  but  to  get  over  the  leagues.  For 
him  this  country  of  distances  and  great 
air  was  not  Castile,  but  Broceliande;  a 
land  of  enchantments  and  pain.  He  was 
no  longer  fancy-free,  but  bound  to  a  quest. 
Consider  the  issue  of  this  day  of  his. 
From  bathing  in  pastoral  he  had  been 
suddenly  soused  into  tragedy's  seething- 
pot.  His  idyll  of  the  tanned  gipsy  with 
her  glancing  eyes  and  warm  lips  had  been 
spattered  out  with  a  brushful  of  blood;  the 
scene  was  changed  from  sunny  life  to  wan 
death.  Here  were  the  staring  eyes  of  a 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  73 

dead  man,  and  his  mouth  twisted  awry 
in  its  last  agony.  He  could  not  away  with 
the  shock,  nor  divest  himself  of  a  share 
in  it.  If  he,  by  mischance,  had  taken  up 
with  Manuela,  he  had  taken  up  with 
Esteban  too. 

The  vanished  players  in  the  drama 
loomed  in  his  mind  larger  for  that  fateful 
last  act.  The  tragic  shock  and  the  mask 
enhanced  them.  What  mystery  lay  behind 
Manuela's  sidelong  eyes  ?  What  sin  or  suf- 
fering ?  What  knowledge,  how  gained,  jus- 
tified Esteban's  wizened  saws  ?  These  two 
were  wise  before  their  time ;  when  they  ought 
to  have  been  flirting  on  the  brink  of  life, 
here  they  were,  breasting  the  great  flood, 
familiar  with  death,  hating  and  stabbing! 

A  pretty  child  with  a  knife  in  her  hand; 
and  a  boy  murdered  —  what  a  country ! 
And  where  stood  he,  Manvers,  the  squire 
of  Somerset,  with  his  thirty  years,  his 
university  education  and  his  seat  on  the 
bench  ?  Exactly  level  with  the  curate, 
to  be  counted  on  for  an  archery  meeting! 


74  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Well  enough  for  diversion;  but  when  seri- 
ous affairs  were  on  hand,  sent  out  of  the 
way.  Was  it  not  so,  that  he,  the  child  of 
the  party,  was  dismissed  to  bathe  while 
his  elders  fought  out  their  deadly  quarrel  ? 
I  put  it  in  the  interrogative;  but  he 
himself  smarted  under  the  answer  to  it. 
And  although  he  never  formulated  the 
thought,  and  made  no  plans,  and  could 
make  none,  I  have  no  doubt  but  that 
his  wounded  self-esteem,  seeking  a  salve, 
found  it  in  the  assurance  that  he  would 
protect  Manuela  from  the  consequences 
of  her  desperate  act;  that  his  protection 
was  his  duty  and  her  need.  The 
English  mind  works  that  way;  we  can- 
not endure  a  breath  upon  our  fair 
surface.  We  direct  the  operations  of  this 
world,  or  the  devil 's  in  it. 

Manvers  was  not,  of  course,  in  love  with 
Manuela.  He  was  sentimentally  engaged 
in  her  affairs,  and  very  sure  that  they  were, 
and  must  be,  his  own.  Yet  I  don't  know 
whether  the  waking  dream  which  he  had 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  75 

upon  the  summit  of  that  plateau  of  brown 
rock  which  bounds  Valladolid  upon  the 
North  was  the  cause  or  consequence  of  his 
implication. 

He  had  climbed  this  sharp  ridge,  because 
a  track  wavered  up  it  which  cut  off  some 
miles  of  the  road.  It  was  not  easy  going 
by  any  means,  but  the  view  rewarded  him. 
The  land  stretched  away  to  the  four  quar- 
ters of  the  compass  and  disappeared  into 
a  copper -brown  haze.  He  stood  well 
above  the  plain,  which  seemed  infinite. 
Cornland  and  waste,  river-bed  and  moor, 
were  laid  out  below  him  as  in  a  geographer's 
model.  He  thought  that  he  stood  up  there 
apart,  contemplating  time  and  existence. 
He  was  indeed  upon  the  convex  of  the 
world,  projecting  from  it  into  illimitable 
space,  consciously  sharing  its  mighty  surge. 

This  did  not  belittle  him.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  felt  something  of  the  helmsman's 
pride,  something  of  the  captain's  on  the 
bridge.  He  was  driving  the  world.  He 
soared,  perched  up  there  apart  from  men 


76  THE  SPANISH  JADE 

and  their  concerns.  All  Spain  lay  at  his 
feet;  he  marked  the  way  it  must  go.  It 
was  possible  for  him  now  to  watch  a  man 
crawl,  like  a  maggot,  from  his  cradle,  and 
urge  a  painful  way  to  his  grave.  And, 
to  his  exalted  eye,  from  cradle  to  grave 
was  but  a  span's  length. 

From  such  sublime  investigation  it  was 
but  a  step  to  sublimity  itself.  His  soul 
seemed  separate  from  his  body;  he  was 
dispassionate,  superhuman,  all-seeing  and 
all  -  comprehending.  Now  he  could  see 
men  as  winged  ants,  crossing  each  other, 
nearing,  drifting  apart,  interweaving,  float- 
ing in  a  cloud,  blown  high,  blown  low  by 
wafts  of  air;  and  here,  presently,  came 
one,  Manvers,  and  there,  driven  by  a  gust, 
went  another,  Manuela. 

At  these  two  insects,  as  one  follows 
idly  one  gull  in  a  flock,  he  could  look 
with  interest,  and  without  emotion.  He 
saw  them  drift,  touch,  and  part,  and 
each  be  blown  its  way,  helpless  mote 
in  the  dust  of  the  great  plain.  From  one 


to  the  other  he  turned  his  eyes.  The 
Manvers  gnat  flew  the  straighter  course, 
holding  to  an  upper  current;  the  Manuela 
wavered,  but  tended  ever  to  a  lower  plane. 
The  wind  from  the  mountains  of  Asturias 
freshened  and  blew  over  him.  In  a  singular 
moment  of  divination  he  saw  the  two 
insects  of  his  vision  caught  in  the  draught 
and  whirled  together  again.  A  spiral  flight 
upward  was  begun;  in  ever-narrowing  cir- 
cles they  climbed,  bid  fair  to  soar.  They 
reached  a  steadier  stream,  they  sped  along 
together;  but  then,  as  a  gust  took  them,  they 
dipped  below  it  and  steadily  declined^ 
wavering,  whirling  about  each  other.  Down 
and  down  they  went,  until  they  were  lost 
to  his  eye  in  the  dust  of  heat.  He  saw  them 
no  more. 

Manvers  came  to  himself,  and  shook 
his  senses  back  into  his  head.  The  sun 
was  sinking  over  Portugal,  the  evening 
wind  was  chill.  Had  he  been  dreaming? 
What  sense  of  fate  was  upon  him  ?  "Come 
up,  Rosinante,  take  me  out  of  the  cave  of 


78  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Montesinos."  He  guided  his  horse  in  and 
out  of  the  boulder-strewn  track  to  the 
edge  of  the  plateau;  and  there  before  him, 
many  leagues  away,  like  a  patch  of  white- 
wash splodged  down  upon  a  blue  field, 
lay  Valladolid,  the  city  of  burning  and 
pride. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  VISIT  TO   THE   JEWELLER'S 

TF  GOD  in  His  majesty  made  the 
•*•  Spains  and  the  nations  which  people 
them,  perhaps  it  was  His  mercy  that 
convoked  the  Spanish  cities  —  as  His 
servant  Philip  piled  rock  upon  rock  and 
called  it  Madrid  —  and  made  cess-pits  for 
the  cleansing  of  the  country. 

Behold  the  Castilian,  the  Valencian,  the 
Murcian  on  his  glebe,  you  find  an  exact 
relation  established;  the  one  exhales  the 
other.  The  man  is  what  his  country  is, 
tragic,  hagridden,  yet  impassive,  patient 
under  the  sun.  He  stands  for  the  natural 
verities.  You  cannot  change  him,  move,  nor 
hurt  him.  He  can  earn  neither  your  praises 
nor  reproach.  As  well  might  you  blame 
the  staring  noon  of  summer  or  throw  a 
kind  word  to  the  everlasting  hills.  The 

79 


80  THE  SPANISH   JADE 

bleak  pride  of  the  Castillano,  the  flint 
and  steel  of  Aragon,  the  languor  which 
veils  Andalusian  fire  —  travelling  the  lands 
which  gave  them  birth,  you  find  them 
scored  in  large  over  mountain  and  plain 
and  river-bed,  and  bitten  deep  into  the 
hearts  of  the  in  dwellers.  They  are  as 
seasonable  there  as  the  flowers  of  waste 
places,  and  will  charm  you  as  much.  So 
Spanish  travel  is  one  of  the  restful  relaxa- 
tions, because  nothing  jars  upon  you. 
You  feel  that  you  are  assisting  a  destiny, 
not  breaking  it.  Not  discovery  is  before 
you  so  much  as  realisation. 

But  in  the  city  Spanish  blood  festers, 
and  all  that  seemed  plausible  in  the  open 
air  is  now  monstrous,  full  of  vice  and  de- 
spair. Whereas  outside,  the  man  stood 
like  a  rock,  and  let  Fate  seam  or  bleach 
him  bare,  here,  within  walls,  he  rages, 
shows  his  teeth,  blasphemes,  or  sinks  into 
sloth.  You  will  find  him  heaped  against 
the  walls  like  ordure,  hear  him  howl  for 
blood  in  the  bull-ring,  appraising  women 


81 


as  if  they  were  dainties  in  the  alamedas, 
loaf,  scratch,  pry  where  none  should 
pry,  go  begging  with  his  sores,  trade  his 
own  soul  or  his  mother's.  His  pride  be- 
comes insolence,  his  tragedy  hideous  revolt, 
his  impassivity  swinish,  his  rock  of  suffi- 
ciency a  rock  of  offence.  God  in  His 
mercy,  or  the  devil  in  his  despite,  made 
the  cities  of  Spain. 

And  yet  the  man,  so  superbly  at  his 
ease  in  his  enormous  spaces,  is  his  own 
conclusion  when  he  goes  to  town;  the 
permutation  is  logical.  He  is  too  strong 
a  thing  to  break  his  nature;  it  will  be  aggra- 
vated but  not  deflected.  Leave  him  to 
swarm  in  the  plaza  and  seek  his  nobler 
brother.  Go  out  by  the  Gate,  descend 
the  winding  suburb,  which  gives  you  the 
burnt  plains  and  far  blue  hills,  now  on  one 
hand,  now  on  the  other,  as  you  circle  down 
and  down,  with  the  walls  mounting  as  you 
fall;  touch  once  more  the  dusty  earth, 
traverse  the  deep  shade  of  the  ilex-avenue; 
greet  the  ox-teams,  the  filing  mules,  as 


82  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

they  creep  up  the  hill  to  the  town:  you  are 
bound  for  their  true,  great  Spain.  And 
though  it  may  be  ten  days  since  you  saw 
it,  or  fifty  years,  you  will  find  nothing 
altered.  The  Spaniard  is  still  the  flower 
of  his  rocks.  O  dura  tellus  Iberice  ! 

From  the  window  of  his  garret  Don 
Luis  Ramonez  de  Alavia  could  overlook 
the  town  wall,  and  by  craning  his  neck 
out  sideways  could  have  seen,  if  he  had  a 
mind,  the  cornice  angle  of  the  palace  of 
his  race.  It  was  a  barrack  in  these  days, 
and  had  been  so  since  ruin  had  settled 
down  on  the  Ramonez  with  the  rest  of 
Valladolid.  That  had  been  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  but  no  Ramonez  had  made 
any  effort  to  repair  it.  Every  one  of  them 
did  as  Don  Luis  was  doing  now,  and  ac- 
cepted misery  in  true  Spanish  fashion.  Not 
only  did  he  never  speak  of  it,  he  never 
thought  of  it  either.  It  was;  therefore  it 
had  to  be. 

He  rose  at  dawn,  every  day  of  his  life, 
and  took  his  sop  in  coffee  in  his  bedgown, 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  83 

sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  bed.  He  heard 
mass  in  the  Church  of  Las  Angustias,  in 
the  same  chapel  at  the  same  hour.  Once 
a  month  he  communicated,  and  then  the 
sop  was  omitted.  He  was  shaved  in  the 
barber's  shop  —  Gomez  the  Sevillian  kept 
it  —  at  the  corner  of  the  plaza.  Gomez, 
the  little,  dapper,  black-eyed  man,  was  a 
friend  of  his — his  newspaper  and  his  doctor. 
He  took  a  high  line  with  Gomez,  as  you 
may  when  you  owe  a  man  twopence  a  week. 

That  over,  he  took  the  sun  in  the  plaza, 
up  and  down  the  centre  line  of  flags  in  fine 
weather,  up  and  down  the  arcade  if  it 
rained.  He  saw  the  diligencia  from  Madrid 
come  in,  he  saw  the  diligencia  for  Madrid 
go  out.  He  knew,  and  accepted,  the  salutes 
of  every  arriero  who  worked  in  and  out 
of  the  city,  and  passed  the  time  of  day 
with  Micael  the  lame  water-seller,  who 
never  failed  to  salute  him. 

At  noon  he  ate  an  onion  and  a  piece  of 
cheese,  and  then  he  dozed  till  three.  As 
the  clock  of  the  University  struck  that 


84  THE   SPANISH  JADE 

hour  he  put  on  his  capa  —  summer 
and  winter  he  wore  it,  with  melancholy 
and  good  reason;  by  ten  minutes  past 
he  was  entering  the  shop  of  Sebastian 
the  goldsmith,  in  the  Plaza  San  Benito, 
in  the  which  he  sat  till  dusk,  motionless 
and  absorbed  in  thought,  talking  little, 
seeming  to  observe  little,  and  yet  judging 
everything  in  the  light  of  strong  common 
sense. 

Summer  or  winter,  at  dusk  he  arose, 
flecked  a  mote  or  two  of  dust  from  his 
capa,  seated  his  beaver  upon  his  gray  head, 
grasped  his  malacca,  and  departed  with  a 
"Be  with  God,  my  friend."  To  this 
Sebastian  the  goldsmith  invariably  replied, 
**At  the  feet  of  your  grace,  Don  Luis.'* 

He  supped  sparingly,  and  the  last  act  of 
his  day  was  his  one  act  of  luxury :  his  cup  of 
chocolate  or  glass  of  agraz,  according  to 
season,  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Luna  in  the  Plaza 
Mayor.  This  was  his  title  to  table  and 
chair,  and  the  respect  of  all  Valladolid 
from  dusk  until  nine  —  on  the  last  stroke 


THE   SPANISH  JADE  85 

of  which,  saluting  the  company,  who  rose 
almost  to  a  man,  he  retired  to  his  garret 
and  thin  bed. 

Pepe,  the  head  waiter  at  the  Luna, 
who  had  been  there  for  thirty  years, 
Gomez  the  barber,  who  was  sixty-three 
and  looked  forty,  Sebastian  the  gold- 
smith, well  over  middle  age,  and  the  old 
priest  of  Las  Angustias,  who  had  confessed 
him  every  Friday  and  said  mass  at  the 
same  altar  every  morning  since  his  ordina- 
tion (God  knows  how  long  ago)  would 
have  testified  to  the  fact  that  Don  Luis 
had  never  once  varied  his  daily  habits 
within  time  of  memory. 

They  would  have  been  wrong  of  course, 
like  all  clean  sweepers;  for  in  addition 
to  his  inheritance  of  ruin,  misfortunes 
had  graved  him  deeply.  Valladolid  knew 
it  well.  His  wife  had  left  him,  his  son 
had  gone  to  the  devil.  He  bore  the  first 
blow  like  a  stoic,  not  moving  a  muscle 
nor  varying  a  habit:  the  second  sent 
him  on  a  journey.  The  barber,  the 


86  THE   SPANISH  JADE 

water-seller,  Pepe  the  waiter,  Sebastian 
the  deft  were  troubled  about  him  for  a 
week  or  more.  He  came  back,  and  hid  his 
wound,  speaking  to  no  one  of  it;  and  no 
one  dared  to  pity  him.  And  although  he 
resumed  his  routine  and  was  outwardly 
the  same  man,  we  may  trace  to  that  last 
stroke  of  Fortune  the  wasted  splendour  of 
his  eyes,  the  look  of  a  dying  stag,  which, 
once  seen,  haunted  the  observer.  He  was 
extraordinarily  handsome,  except  for  his 
narrow  shoulders  and  hollow  eyes,  flaw- 
lessly clean  in  person  and  dress;  a  tall 
straight,  hawk-nosed,  sallow  gentleman. 
The  Archbishop  of  Toledo  was  his  first 
cousin,  a  cadet  of  his  house.  He  was 
entitled  to  wear  his  hat  in  the  presence  of 
the  Queen,  and  he  lived  upon  fivepence 
a  day. 

Manvers,  reaching  Valladolid  in  the 
evening,  reposed  himself  for  a  day  or  two, 
and  recovered  from  his  shock.  He  saw 
the  sights,  conversed  with  affability  with 
all  and  sundry,  drank  agraz  in  the  Cafe 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  87 

de  la  Luna.  He  must  have  beamed  with- 
out knowing  it  upon  Don  Luis,  for  his 
brisk  appearance,  twisted  smile,  and  abrupt 
manner  were  familiar  to  that  watchful 
gentleman  by  the  time  that,  sweeping  aside 
the  curtain  like  a  buffet  of  wind,  he  entered 
the  goldsmith's  shop  in  the  Plaza  San 
Benito.  He  came  in  a  little  before  twilight 
one  afternoon,  holding  by  a  string  hi  one 
hand  some  swinging  object,  taking  off 
his  hat  with  the  other  as  soon  as  he  was 
past  the  curtain  of  the  door. 

"  Can  you,"  he  said  to  Sebastian,  in  very 
fair  Spanish,  "  take  up  a  job  for  me  a  little 
out  of  the  common  ?"  As  he  spoke  he 
swung  the  object  into  the  air,  caught  it 
and  enclosed  it  with  his  hand.  Don  Luis, 
in  a  dark  corner  of  the  shop,  sat  back 
in  his  accustomed  chair  and  watched  him. 
He  sat  very  still,  a  picture  of  mournful 
interest,  shrouding  his  mouth  with  his  hand. 

Sebastian,  first  master  of  his  craft  in  a 
city  of  goldsmiths,  was  far  too  much  the  gen- 
tleman to  imply  that  any  command  of  his 


88  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

customer  need  not  be  extraordinary.  Bow- 
ing with  gravity,  and  adjusting  the  glasses 
upon  his  fine  nose,  he  replied  that  when 
he  understood  the  nature  of  the  business 
he  should  be  better  instructed  for  his 
answer.  Thereupon  Manvers  opened  his 
hand  and  passed  over  the  counter  a  brass 
crucifix. 

It  is  difficult  to  disturb  the  self-posses- 
sion of  a  gentleman  of  Spain;  Sebastian 
did  not  betray  by  a  twitch  what  his  feel- 
ings or  thoughts  may  have  been.  He 
gravely  scrutinised  the  battered  cross,  back 
and  front,  was  polite  enough  to  ignore  the 
greasy  string,  and  handed  it  back  without 
a  single  word.  It  may  have  been  worth 
half  a  real;  to  watch  his  treatment  of  it 
was  cheap  at  a  dollar. 

Manvers,  however,  flushed  with  annoy- 
ance, and  spoke  somewhat  loftily.  "Am 
I  to  understand  that  you  will,  or  will  not 
oblige  me?" 

Sebastian  temperately  replied,  "You  are 
to  understand,  senor  caballero,  that  I 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  89 

am  at  your  disposition,  but  that  also  that 
I  do  not  yet  know  what  you  wish  me  to 
do"  Manvers  laughed,  and  the  air  was 
clearer. 

"A  thousand  pardons,"  he  said,  "a 
thousand  pardons  for  my  stupidity.  I 
can  tell  you  in  two  minutes  what  I  want 
done  with  this  thing."  He  held  it  in  the 
flat  of  his  hand,  and  looked  from  it  to  the 
jeweller,  as  he  succinctly  explained  his 
wishes. 

"I  want  you,"  he  said,  "to  encase  this 
cross  completely,  in  thin  gold  plates." 
Conscious  of  Sebastian's  portentious  gravity, 
perhaps  of  Don  Luis  in  his  dark  corner, 
he  showed  himself  a  little  self-conscious  also, 
and  added,  "It's  a  curious  desire  of  mine, 
I  know,  but  there  's  a  reason  for  it,  which 
is  neither  here  nor  there.  Make  for  me 
then,"  he  went  on,  "of  thin  gold  plates, 
a  matrix  to  hold  this  cross.  It  must  have 
a  lid,  also,  which  shall  open  upon  hinges, 
here"  —  he  indicated  the  precise  points  — 
"and  close  with  a  clasp,  here.  Let  the 


90  THE  SPANISH   JADE 

string  also  be  encased  in  gold.  I  don't 
know  how  you  will  do  it  —  that  is  a  matter 
for  your  skill ;  but  I  wish  the  string  to  remain 
where  it  is,  intact,  within  a  gold  covering. 
This  casing  should  be  pliable,  so  that  the 
cross  could  hang,  if  necessary,  round  the 
neck  of  a  person  —  as  it  used  to  hang. 
Do  I  make  myself  understood?" 

The  Castilians  are  not  a  curious  people, 
but  this  commission  did  undoubtedly  inter- 
est Sebastian  the  jeweller.  Professionally 
speaking,  it  was  a  delicate  piece  of  work; 
humanly,  could  have  but  one  explanation. 
So,  at  least,  he  judged. 

What  Don  Luis  may  have  thought  of 
it,  there  's  no  telling.  If  you  had  watched 
him  closely  you  would  have  seen  the 
pupils  of  his  eyes  dilate,  and  then  contract 
—  just  as  those  of  a  caged  owl,  when 
he  becomes  aware  of  a  mouse  circling 
round  him. 

But  while  Don  Luis  could  be  absorbed 
in  the  human  problem,  it  was  not  so 
with  his  friend.  Points  of  detail  engaged 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  91 

him  in  a  series  of  suggestions  which 
threatened  to  be  prolonged,  and  which 
maddened  the  Englishman.  Was  the  out- 
line of  the  cross  to  be  maintained  in  the 
casing?  Undoubtedly  it  was,  otherwise 
you  might  as  well  hang  a  card-case  round 
your  neck!  The  hinges,  now  —  might 
they  not  better  be  here  and  here,  than  there 
and  there  ?  Manvers  was  indifferent  as  to  the 
hinges.  The  fastening  ?  Let  the  fastening 
be  one  which  could  be  snapped-  to,  and 
open  upon  a  spring.  The  chain  —  ah, 
there  was  some  nicety  required  for  that. 
From  his  point  of  view,  Sebastian  said, 
with  the  light  of  enthusiasm  irradiating  his 
face,  that  that  was  the  cream  of  the  job. 

Manvers,  wishing  to  get  out  of  the  shop, 
begged  him  to  do  the  best  he  could,  and 
turned  to  go.  At  the  door  he  stopped  short 
and  came  back.  There  was  one  thing  more. 
Inside  the  lid  of  the  case,  in  the  centre  of 
the  cross,  he  wished  to  have  engraved  the 
capital  letter  M,  and  below  that  a  date  — 12 
May,  1861.  That  was  really  all,  except 


92  THE  SPANISH      JADE 

that  he  was  staying  at  the  Parador  de  las 
Diligencias,  and  would  call  in  a  week's 
time.  He  left  his  card  —  Mr.  Osmund 
Manvers,  Filcote  Hall,  Taunton;  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  Club  —  elegantly  engraved. 
And  then  he  departed,  with  a  jerky  salute 
to  Don  Luis,  grave  in  his  corner. 

That  card,  after  many  turns  back  and 
face,  was  handed  to  Don  Luis  for  inspec- 
tion, while  Sebastian  looked  to  him  for 
light  over  the  rim  of  his  spectacles. 

"M.  for  Manvers,"  he  said  presently, 
since  Don  Luis  returned  the  card  without 
comment.  "That  is  probable,  I  imagine." 

"It  is  possible,"  said  Don  Luis  with 
his  grand  air  of  indifference.  "With  an 
Englishman  anything  is  possible." 

Sebastian  did  not  pretend  to  be  indifferent. 
He  hummed  an  air,  and  played  it  out  with 
his  fingers  on  the  counter  as  he  thought. 
Then  he  flashed  into  life.  "The  twelfth 
of  May!  That  is  just  a  week  ago.  I 
have  it,  Senor  Don  Luis!  Hear  my  expla- 
nation. This  thing  of  naught  was  presented 


THE  SPANISH   JADE  93 

to  the  gentleman  upon  his  birthday  — 
the  twelfth  of  May.  The  giver  was  poor, 
or  he  would  have  made  a  more  consider- 
able present;  and  he  was  very  dear  to  the 
gentleman,  or  he  would  not  have  dared 
to  present  such  a  thing.  Nor  would  the 
gentleman,  I  think,  have  treated  it  so 
handsomely.  Handsomely!"  He  made  a 
rapid  calculation.  "Ah,  que!  He  is  paying 
its  weight  in  gold."  Now  —  this  was  in 
his  air  of  triumph  —  now  what  had  Don 
Luis  to  say? 

That  weary  but  unbowed  antagonist 
of  hunger  and  despair,  after  shrugging 
his  shoulder,  considered  the  matter,  while 
Sebastian  waited.  :*  Why  do  you  suppose," 
he  asked  at  length,  "that  the  giver  of  this 
thing  was  a  man  ?" 

"I  do  not  suppose  it,"  cried  Sebastian, 
"I  never  did  suppose  it.  The  cross  has 
been  worn"  —  he  passed  his  finger  over 
its  smooth  back  — "  and  recently  worn. 
Men  do  not  carry  such  things  about  them, 
unless  they  are " 


94  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"What  this  gentleman  is,"  said  Don 
Luis.  "A  woman  gave  him  this.  A 
wench."  Sebastian  bowed,  and  with  spark- 
ling eyes  readjusted  his  inferences. 

"That  being  admitted,  we  are  brought 
a  little  further.  M.  does  not  stand  for 
Manvers  —  for  what  gentleman  would 
give  himself  the  trouble  to  engrave  his 
own  name  upon  a  cross  ?  It  is  the  initial 
of  the  giver's  name  —  and  observe,  Senor 
Don  Luis,  he  is  very  familiar  with  her,  since 
he  knows  her  but  by  one."  He  looked 
through  his  shop  window  to  the  light,  as 
he  began  a  catalogue.  "Maria  —  Mari- 
quita — Maritornes —  Marger  ita — Mariana — 

Mercedes  —  Miguela "  He  stopped 

short,  and  his  eyes  encountered  those  of 
his  friend,  fast  upon  him,  ominous  and 
absorbing.  He  showed  a  certain  confu- 
sion. "Any  one  of  these  names,  it  might 
be,  Senor  Don  Luis." 

"Or  Manuela."  said  the  other,  still 
regarding  him  steadily. 

"Or    Manuela  —  true,"    said    Sebastian 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  95 

with  a  bow,  and  a  perceptible  deepening 
of  colour. 

"In  any  case  " —  Don  Luis  rose,  removed 
a  speck  of  dust  from  his  capa,  and  ad- 
justed his  beaver  —  "In  any  case,  my 
friend,  we  may  assume  the  12th  of  May 
to  be  our  gentleman's  birthday.  Adios, 
hermano." 

Sebastian  was  about  to  utter  his  usual 
ceremonial  assurance,  when  a  thought 
drove  it  out  of  his  head. 

"Stay,  stay  a  moment,  Don  Luis  of  my 
soul!"  He  snapped  his  fingers  together 
in  his  excitement. 

"Ah  que!"  muttered  Don  Luis,  who 
had  his  hand  upon  the  latch. 

"A  birthday  —  what  is  it?  A  thing 
of  every  year.  Is  he  likely  to  receive  a 
brass  crucifix  worth  two  maravedis  every 
year,  and  every  year  to  sheathe  it  in  gold? 
Never !  This  marks  a  solemnity  —  a  great 
solemnity.  Listen,  I  will  tell  you.  It 
marks  the  end  of  a  liaison.  She  has  left 
him  —  but  tenderly;  or  he  has  left  her  — 


96  THE  SPANISH   JADE 

but    regretfully.     It    becomes    a    touching 
affair.     Do   you   not    agree   with   me?" 

Don  Luis  raised  his  eyebrows.  "I  have 
no  means  of  agreeing  with  you,  Sebastian. 
It  may  mark  the  end  of  a  story  —  or  the 
beginning.  Who  knows  ?"  He  threw  out 
his  arms  and  let  them  drop.  "Senor 
God,  who  cares?" 


CHAPTER  X 

FUKTHER  EPISODES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  DON  LUIS 
RAMONEZ 

GOLDSMITHING  is  the  art  of  Valla- 
dolid,  and  Sebastian  was  its  master. 
That  was  the  opinion  of  the  mystery,  and  his 
own  opinion.  He  never  concealed  it;  but  he 
had  now  to  confess  that  Manvers  had  given 
him  a  task  worthy  of  his  powers.  To  cut  out 
and  rivet  the  links  of  the  chain,  which  was 
to  sheathe  a  piece  of  string  and  leave  it 
all  its  pliancy — "I  tell  you,  Don  Luis  of 
my  soul,"  he  said,  peering  up  from  his 
board,  "there  is  no  man  in  our  mystery 
who  could  cope  with  it  —  and  very  few 
frail  ladies  who  could  be  worthy  of  it." 
Don  Luis  added  that  there  could  be  few 
young  men  who  could  be  capable  of  com- 
manding it;  but  Sebastian  had  now  con- 
ceived an  admiration  for  his  client. 

97 


98  THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"Fantasia,  vaya!  The  English  have  the 
hearts  of  poets  in  the  bodies  of  beeves. 
Did  your  grace  ever  hear  of  Dona  Juanita 
—  who  in  the  French  war  ran  half  over 
Andalusia  in  pursuit  of  an  Englishman  ? 
I  heard  my  father  tell  the  tale.  Not  his 
person  claimed  her,  but  his  heart  of  a  poet. 
Well,  he  married  her,  and  from  camp  to 
camp  she  trailed  after  him,  while  he  helped 
our  nation  beat  Buonaparte.  But  one  day 
they  received  the  hospitality  of  a  certain 
hidalgo,  and  had  removed  many  leagues 
from  him  by  the  next  night,  when  they 
camped  beside  a  river.  Dinner  was  eaten 
in  the  tents,  and  dessert  served  up  in  a 
fine  bowl.  'Sola!'  says  the  Englishman, 
'that  bowl  —  it  is  not  ours,  my  heart?' 
'No,'  says  Juanita,  'it  is  the  hidalgo's,  and 
was  packed  with  our  furniture  in  the  hurry 
of  departing.'  'Por  Dios!'  says  the  English- 
man, 'it  must  be  returned  to  him.'  But 
how  ?  He  could  not  go  himself,  for  at  that 
moment  there  entered  an  alguazil  with  news 
of  the  enemy.  What  then?  'Juanita  will 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  99 

go,'  says  the  Englishman,  and  went  out, 
buckling  his  sword.  Senor  Don  Luis,  she 
went,  on  horseback,  all  those  leagues,  beset 
with  foes,  in  the  night,  and  rendered  back 
the  bowl.  I  tell  you,  the  heart  of  poets!" 

Don  Luis,  who  had  been  nodding  his 
high  approval,  now  stared  "Ah,  que! 
But  the  poet  was  Dona  Juanita,  it  seems 
to  me,"  he  said. 

"Pardon  me,  dear  sir,  not  at  all.  Our 
Spanish  ladies  are  not  fond  of  travel.  It 
was  the  Englishman  who  inspired  her. 
He  was  a  poet  with  a  vision.  In  his  vision 
he  saw  her  going.  Safely,  then,  he  could 
say,  she  will  go,  because  he,  to  whom  time 
was  nothing,  saw  her  in  the  act.  He  did 
not  give  directions  —  he  went  out  to  engage 
the  enemy.  Then  she  went  —  vaya!" 

'You  may  be  sure,"  Sebastian  went  on, 
"that  my  client  is  a  poet  and  a  fine  fellow. 
You  may  be  sure  that  the  gift  of  this  trifle 
has  touched  his  heart.  It  was  not  given 
lightly.  The  measure  of  his  care  is  the 
measure  of  its  worth  in  his  eyes." 


100          THE  SPANISH   JADE 

Don  Luis  allowed  the  possibility,  by 
raising  his  eyebrows  and  tilting  his  head 
sideways;  a  shrug  with  an  accent,  as  it 
were.  Then  he  allowed  Sebastian  to  clinch 
his  argument  by  saying  that  the  English- 
man seemed  to  be  getting  the  better  of  his 
emotion;  for  here  was  a  week,  said  he,  and 
he  had  not  once  been  into  the  shop  to  inquire 
for  his  relic.  Sebastian  was  down  upon 
the  admission.  "What  did  I  tell  you, 
my  friend?  Is  not  that  the  precise  action 
of  our  Englishman  who  said,  *Juanita 
will  ride/  and  went  out  and  left  her  at  the 
table  ?  Precisely  the  same !  And  Juanita 
rode  —  and  I,  by  God,  have  wrought  at 
the  work  he  gave  me  to  do,  and  finished 
it.  Vaya,  Don  Luis,  it  is  not  amiss." 

It  had  to  be  confessed  that  it  was  not; 
and  Manvers  calling  one  morning  later 
was  as  warm  in  his  praises  as  his  Spanish 
and  his  temperament  would  admit.  He 
paid  the  bill  without  demur. 

Sebastian,  though  he  was  curious,  was 
discreet.  Don  Luis,  however,  thought 


THE  SPANISH   JADE          101 

proper  to  remark  upon  the  crucifix,  when 
he  chanced  to  meet  its  owner  in  the  Church 
of  Las  Angustias. 

That  church  contains  a  famous  statue 
of  Juan  de  Juni's,  a  Mater  dolor osa  most 
tragic  and  memorable.  Manvers,  in  his 
week's  prowling  of  the  city,  had  come 
upon  it  by  accident,  and  visited  it  more 
than  once.  She  sits,  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows, 
upon  a  rock,  in  her  widow's  weeds,  exhibit- 
ing a  grief  so  intense  that  she  may  well 
have  been  made  larger  than  life,  in  order 
to  support  a  misery  which  would  crush  a 
mortal  woman.  It  is  so  fine,  this  emblem 
of  divine  suffering,  that  it  obscures  its 
tawdry  surroundings,  its  pinchbeck  taber- 
nacle, gilding  and  red  paint.  When  she 
is  carried  in  a  paso,  as  whiles  she  is,  no 
spangled  robe  is  put  over  her,  no  priest's 
vestment,  no  crown  or  veil.  Seven  swords 
are  driven  into  her  bosom:  she  is  uncon- 
scious of  them.  Her  wounds  are  within; 
but  they  call  her  in  Valladolid  Senora  de 
los  Cuchillos. 


102          THE  SPANISH   JADE 

It  was  in  the  presence  of  this  august 
mourner  that  Manvers  was  found  by 
Don  Luis  Ramonez  after  mass.  He  had 
been  present  at  the  ceremony,  but  not 
assisting,  and  had  his  crucifix  open  in 
the  palm  of  his  hand  when  the  other 
rose  from  his  knees  and  saw  him. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  the  old 
gentleman  stayed  till  the  worshippers  had 
departed,  and  then  drew  near  to  Manvers, 
and  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"You  will  forgive  me  for  remarking 
upon  what  you  have  in  your  hand,  senor 
caballero,"  he  said,  "when  I  tell  you  that 
I  was  present,  not  only  at  the  commission- 
ing of  the  work,  but  at  its  daily  progress  to 
the  perfection  it  now  bears.  My  friend,  Don 
Sebastian,  had  every  reason  to  be  contented 
with  his  masterpiece.  I  am  glad  to  learn 
from  him  that  you  were  no  less  satisfied." 

Manvers,  who  had  immediately  shut 
down  his  hand,  now  opened  it.  'Yes," 
he  said,  "it's  a  beautiful  piece  of  work. 
I  am  more  than  pleased." 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          103 

"It  is  a  setting,"  said  Don  Luis,  "which, 
in  this  country,  we  should  give  to  a  relic 
of  the  True  Cross." 

Manvers  looked  quickly  up.  "I  know, 
I  know.  It  must  seem  to  you  a  piece  of 
extravagance  on  my  part—  — .  But  there 
were  reasons,  good  reasons.  I  could  hardly 
have  done  less." 

Don  Luis  bowed  gravely,  but  said  noth- 
ing. Manvers  felt  impelled  to  further  dis- 
cussion. Had  he  been  a  Spaniard  he 
would  have  left  the  matter  where  it  was; 
but  he  was  not,  so  he  went  awkwardly  on. 

"It's  a  queer  story.  For  some  reason 
or  another  I  don't  care  to  speak  of  it.  The 
person  who  gave  me  this  trinket  did  me  — 
or  intended  me  —  an  immense  service, 
at  a  great  cost." 

"She,  too,"  said  Don  Luis,  looking  at 
the  Dolorosa,  "may  have  had  her  reasons." 

"It  was  a  woman,"  said  Manvers,  with 
quickening  colour,  "  I  see  no  harm  in  saying 
so.  I  was  going  to  tell  you  that  she  believed 
herself  indebted  to  me  for  some  trifling 


104          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

attention  I  had  been  able  to  show  her 
previously.  That  is  how  I  explain  her 
giving  me  the  crucifix.  It  was  her  way 
of  thanking  me  —  a  pretty  way.  I  was 
touched." 

Don  Luis  waved  his  hand.  "It  is  very 
evident,  sefior  caballero.  Your  way  of 
recording  it  is  exemplary:  her  way,  perhaps, 
was  no  less  so." 

'You  will  think  me  of  a  sentimental 
race,"  Manvers  laughed,  "and  I  won't 
deny  it  —  but  it 's  a  fact  that  I  was  touched." 

Don  Luis,  who,  throughout  the  conversa- 
tion, had  been  turning  the  crucifix  about, 
now  examined  the  inscription.  He  held 
it  up  to  the  light  that  he  might  see  it  better. 
Manvers  observed  him,  but  did  not  take 
the  hint  which  was  thus,  rather  bluntly, 
conveyed  him.  The  case  once  more  in  his 
breast-pocket,  he  saluted  Don  Luis  and 
went  his  way. 

Shortly  afterward  he  left  Valladolid  on 
horseback. 

Perhaps   a  week  went  by,   perhaps   ten 


THE  SPANISH   JADE          105 

days;  and  then  Don  Luis  had  a  visitor  one 
night  in  theCafede  la  Luna,  a  mean-looking, 
pale,  and  harassed  visitor  with  a  close- 
cropped  head,  whose  eyebrows  flickered 
like  summer  fires  in  the  sky,  who  would 
not  sit  down,  who  kept  his  felt  hat  rolled 
in  his  hands,  whose  deference  was  extreme, 
and  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course.  He 
was  known  in  Valladolid,  it  seemed.  Pepe 
knew  him,  called  him  Tormillo. 

"A  sus  pies"  was  the  burthen  of  his 
news  so  far,  a  los  pies  de  Vd.,  Senor  Don 
Luis." 

Don  Luis  took  no  sort  of  notice  of  him, 
but  continued  to  smoke  his  cigarette.  He 
allowed  the  man  to  stand  shuffling  about 
for  some  three  minutes  before  he  asked 
him  what  he  wan  ted- 
That  was  exactly  what  Tormillo  found 
it  so  difficult  to  explain.  His  eyebrows 
ran  up  to  hide  in  his  hair,  his  hands  crushed 
his  hat  into  his  chest.  "Quien  sabe?"  he 
gasped  to  the  company,  and  Don  Luis 
drained  his  glass. 


106          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Then  he  looked  at  the  man.  "Well, 
Tormillo  ?" 

Tormillo  shifted  his  feet.  "Ha!"  he 
gasped,  "who  knows  what  the  senores 
may  be  pleased  to  say?  How  am  I  to 
know  ?  They  ask  for  an  interview,  a  short 
interview  in  the  light  of  the  moon.  Two 
caballeros  in  the  Campo  Grande  —  ready 
to  oblige  your  Excellency." 

"And  who,  pray,  are  these  caballeros? 
And  why  do  they  stand  in  the  Campo?" 
Don  Luis  asked  in  his  grandest  manner. 
Tormillo  wheedled  in  his  explanations. 

"That  which  they  have  to  report,  Seiior 
Don  Luis,"  he  began,  craning  forward, 
whispering,  grinning  his  extreme  goodwill 
—"Oho!  it  is  not  matter  for  the  Cafe. 
It  is  matter  for  the  moon,  and  the  shade 
of  trees.  And  these  caballeros  - 

Don  Luis  paid  the  hovering  Pepe  his 
shot,  rose  and  threw  his  cloak  over  his 
shoulder.  "Follow  me,"  he  said,  and, 
saluting  the  company,  walked  into  the 
plaza.  He  crossed  it,  and  entered  a  narrow 


THE  SPANISH   JADE          107 

street,  where  the  overhanging  houses  make 
a  perpetual  shade.  There  he  stopped. 
'Who  are  these  gentlemen?"  he  said 
abruptly.  Tormillo  seemed  to  be  swim- 
ming. 

;' Worthy  men,  Senor  Don  Luis,  worthy 
of  confidence.  To  me  they  said  little;  it 
is  for  your  grace's  ear.  They  have  titles. 
They  are  written  across  their  foreheads. 
It  is  not  for  me  to  speak.  Who  am  I, 
Tormillo,  but  the  slave  of  your  nobility?" 

The  more  he  prevaricated,  the  less  Don 
Luis  pursued  him.  Stiffening  his  neck, 
shrouded  in  his  cloak,  he  now  stalked 
stately  from  street  to  street  until  he  came 
to  the  Puerta  del  Carmen,  through  the 
battlements  of  which  the  moon  could  be 
seen  looking  coldly  upon  Valladolid.  He 
was  known  to  the  gatekeeper,  who  bowed, 
and  opened  him  the  wicket. 

The  great  space  of  the  Campo  Grande  lay 
like  a  silver  pool,  traversed  only  by  the  thin 
shadows  of  the  trees.  At  the  further  end 
of  the  avenue  which  leads  directly  from 


108         THE  SPANISH   JADE 

the  gate  two  men  were  standing  close 
together.  Beyond  them  a  little  were  two 
horses,  one  snuffing  at  the  bare  earth,  the 
other  with  his  head  thrown  up,  and  ears 
pricked  forward.  Don  Luis  turned  sharply 
on  his  follower. 

"Guardia  Civil?" 

"Si,  senor,  si,"  whispered  Tormillo,  and 
his  teeth  clattered  like  castanets.  Don 
Luis  went  on  without  faltering,  and  did 
not  stay  until  he  was  within  easy  talking 
distance  of  the  two  men.  Then  it  was 
that  he  threw  up  his  head,  with  a  fine 
gesture  of  race,  and  acknowledged  the 
saluting  pair.  Tormillo,  at  this  point, 
turned  aside  and  stood  miserably  under  a 
tree,  wringing  his  hands. 

"Good  evening  to  you,  friends.  I  am 
Don  Luis  Ramonez,  at  your  service." 

The  pair  looked  at  eaca  other:  presently 
one  of  them  spoke. 

"At  the  feet  of  Senor  Don  Luis." 
'Your  business  is  pressing,  and  secret?" 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          109 

"Si,  senor  Don  Luis,  pressing  and  secret, 
and  serious.  We  have  to  ask  your  grace 
to  be  prepared." 

"I  thank  you.  My  preparations  are 
made  already.  Present  your  report." 

He  took  a  cigarette  from  his  pocket, 
and  lit  it  with  a  steady  hand.  The  flame 
of  the  match  showed  his  brows  and  deep- 
set  eyes.  If  ever  a  man  had  acquaintance 
with  grief  printed  upon  him,  it  was  he. 
But  throughout  the  interview  the  glowing 
weed  could  be  seen,  a  waxing  and  waning 
rim  of  fire,  lighting  up  his  gray  moustache, 
and  then  hovering  in  mid-air,  motionless. 

The  officer  appointed  to  speak  presented 
his  report  in  these  terms. 

"We  were  upon  our  round  about  the 
wood  of  La  Huerca  six  days  ago,  and  had 
occasion  to  visit  the  Convent  of  La  Pefia. 
Upon  information  received  from  the  Prior 
we  questioned  a  certain  religious,  who 
admitted  that  he  had  recently  buried  a  man 
in  the  wood.  After  some  hesitation,  which 
we  had  the  means  of  overcoming,  he 


110          THE  SPANISH  JADE 

conducted  us  to  the  grave.  We  disinterred 
the  deceased,  who  had  been  murdered. 
Senor  Don  Luis " 

"Proceed,"  said  Don  Luis  coldly.  "I 
am  listening." 

"Sir,"  said  the  officer,  "it  was  the  body  of 
a  young  man  who  had  come  from  Pobledo. 
He  called  himself  Esteban  Vincaz."  Tor- 
millo,  under  his  tree  across  the  avenue,  howled 
and  rent  himself.  Don  Luis  heard  him. 

"  Precisely,"  he  said  to  the  officer.  "  Have 
the  goodness  to  wait  while  I  silence  that 
dog  over  there."  He  went  rapidly  over 
the  roadway  to  Tormillo,  grasped  him  by 
the  shoulder,  and  spoke  to  him  in  a  vehement 
whisper.  That  was  the  single  action  by 
which  he  betrayed  himself.  He  returned 
to  his  interview. 

"I  am  now  at  leisure  again.  Let  us 
resume  our  conversation.  You  questioned 
the  religious,  you  say?  When  did  the 
assassination  take  place?" 

"Don  Luis,  it  was  upon  the  twelfth  of 
May." 


THE  SPANISH   JADE          111 

"Ah,"  said  Don  Luis,  "the  twelfth  of 
May  ?  And  did  he  know  who  committed  it  ?" 

"Senor   Don    Luis,    it   was   a   woman." 

The  wasted  eyes  were  upon  the  speaker, 
and  made  him  nervous.  He  turned  away 
his  head.  But  Don  Luis  continued  his 
cross-examination. 

"  She  was  a  fair  woman,  I  believe  ?  A 
Valencian  ?" 

"Senor,  si,"  said  the  man.  "Fair  and 
false,  a  Valencian." 

Of  Valencia  they  say,  "La  came  es  herba, 
la  herba  agua,  el  hombre  muger,  la  muger 
nada." 

"Her  name,"  said  Don  Luis,  "began 
with  M." 

"Senor,  si.  It  was  Manuela,  the  dancing 
girl  —  called  La  Valenciana,  La  Fierita, 
and  a  dozen  other  things.  But,  pardon 
me  the  liberty,  your  worship  had  been 
informed  ?" 

"I  knew  something,"  said  Don  Luis, 
"and  suspected  something.  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you,  my  friends.  Justice  will 


112          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

be  done.  Good  night  to  you."  He  turned, 
touching  the  brim  of  his  hat;  but  the  man 
went  after  him. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  Senor  Don  Luis, 
but  we  have  our  duty  to  the  state." 

"Eh!"  said  Don  Luis  sharply.  "Well, 
then,  you  had  best  set  to  work  upon  it." 

"If  your  worship  has  any  knowledge 
of  the  whereabouts  of  this  woman  - 

"I  have  none,"  said  Don  Luis.  "If 
I  had  I  would  impart  it,  and  when  I  have 
it  shall  be  yours.  Go  now  with  God." 

He  crossed  the  pathway  of  light,  laid 
his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  weeping 
Tormillo.  "Come,  I  need  you,"  he  said. 
Tormillo  crept  after  him  to  his  lodging, 
and  the  Guardias  Civiles  made  themselves 
cigarettes. 

The  following  day  a  miracle  was  reported 
in  Valladolid.  Don  Luis  Ramonez  was 
not  in  his  place  in  the  Cafe  de  la  Luna. 
Sebastian  the  goldsmith,  Gomez  the  pert 
barber,  Pepe  the  waiter,  Micael  the  water- 
seller  of  the  Plaza  Mayor  knew  nothing 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          113 

of  his  whereabouts.  The  old  priest  of 
Las  Angustias  might  have  told  if  his  lips 
had  not  been  sealed.  But  in  the  course 
of  the  next  morning  it  was  noised  about 
that  his  worship  had  left  the  city  for 
Madrid,  accompanied  by  a  servant. 


CHAPTER  XI 

GIL  PEREZ   DE   SEGOVIA 

BEFORE  he  left  Valladolid  Manvers  had 
sold  his  horse  for  what  he  could  get, 
and  had  taken  the  diligencia  as  far  as  Se- 
govia. Not  a  restful  conveyance,  the  diligencia 
of  Spain:  therefore,  in  that  wonderful  city 
of  towers,  silence,  and  guarded  windows  he 
stayed  a  full  week,  in  order,  as  he  put  it, 
that  his  bones  might  have  time  to  set. 
There  it  was  that  he  became  the  property 
of  Gil  Perez,  who  met  him  one  day  on  the 
doorstep  of  his  hotel,  saluted  him  with  a 
flourish  and  said  in  dashing  English,  "Good 
morning,  Mister.  I  am  the  man  for  you.  I 
espeak  English  very  good,  Dutch,  what 
you  like.  I  show  you  my  city;  you  pleased 
—  eh?"  He  had  a  merry  brown  face, 
half  of  a  quiz  and  half  of  a  rogue,  was 
well-dressed  in  black,  wore  his  hat,  which 

114 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          115 

was  now  in  his  hand,  rather  over  one  ear. 
Manvers  met  his  saucy  eyes  for  a  minute, 
saw  anxiety  behind  their  impudence, 
could  not  be  angry,  burst  into  a  laugh,  and 
was  heartily  joined  by  Gil  Perez. 

"That  very  good,"  said  Gil.  "You 
laugh,  I  very  glad.  That  tell  me  is  all  right." 
He  immediately  became  serious.  "I  serve 
you  well,  sir,  there  's  no  mistake.  I  am 
Gil  Perez,  too  well  known  to  the  land- 
lord of  this  hotel.  You  see  ?"  He  showed 
his  teeth,  which  were  excellent,  and 
he  had  also,  Manvers  reflected,  shown 
his  hand,  for  what  it  was  worth  —  which 
argued  a  certain  security. 

"Gil  Perez,"  he  said,  on  an  impulse, 
"I  shall  take  you  at  your  word.  Do  you 
wait  where  you  are."  He  turned  back 
into  the  inn  and  sought  his  landlord,  who 
was  smoking  a  cigar  in  the  kitchen  while 
the  maids  bustled  about.  From  him  he 
learned  what  there  was  to  be  known  of 
Gil  Perez;  that  he  was  a  native  of  Cadiz 
who  had  been  valet  to  an  English  officer 


116          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

at  Gibraltar,  followed  him  out  to  the  Crimea, 
nursed  him  through  dysentery  (of  which 
he  had  died),  and  had  then  begged  his 
way  home  again  to  Spain.  He  had  been 
in  Segovia  a  year  or  two,  acting  as  guide 
or  interpreter  when  he  could,  living  on 
nothing  a  day  mostly,  and  doing  pretty 
well  on  it. 

"He  has  been  in  prison,  I  shall  not 
conceal  from  your  honour,"  said  the  land- 
lord. "He  stabbed  a  man  under  the  ribs 
because  he  had  insulted  the  English.  Gil 
Perez  loves  your  nation.  He  considers 
you  to  be  the  natural  protectors  of  the 
poor.  He  will  serve  you  well,  you  may 
be  sure." 

"That's  what  he  told  me  himself,"  said 
Manvers. 

The    landlord    rested    his    eyes  —  large, 
brown,  and   solemn   as  those  of   an   ox  - 
upon  his  guest.     "He  told  you  the  truth, 
senor.     He  will  serve  you  better  than  he 
would  serve  me.     You  will  be  his  god." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Manvers,  and  went 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          117 

out  to  the  door  again.  Gil  Perez,  who 
had  been  smoking  out  in  the  sun,  threw 
his  papelito  away,  stood  at  attention  and 
saluted  smartly. 

"What  was  the  name  of  your  English 
master  ?"  Manvers  asked  him.  Gil  replied 
at  once. 

; '  E  call  Capitan  Rodney.  Royalorse 
Artillery.  'E  say  'Gunner.'  'E  was  a 
gentleman,  sir." 

"I  'm  sure  he  was,"  said  Manvers. 

"My  master  espeak  very  good  Espanish. 
'E  say  'damn  your  eyes'  all  the  time;  and 
call  me  'Little  devil'  just  the  same.  Ah," 
said  Gil  Perez,  shaking  his  head.  "E 
very  good  gentleman  to  me,  sir  —  good 
master.  I  loved  'im.  'E  dead."  For 
a  minute  he  gazed  wistfully  at  the  sky; 
then,  as  if  to  clinch  the  sad  matter,  he 
turned  to  Manvers.  "I  bury  'im  all  right," 
he  said  briskly,  and  nodded  inward  the 
fact. 

Manvers  considered  for  a  moment.  "I  '11 
give  you,"  he  said,  and  looked  at  Gil  keenly 


118          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

as  he  said  it,  "I'll  give  you  one  peseta  a 
day."  He  saw  his  eyes  fade  and  grow 
blank,  though  the  genial  smile  hovered 
still  on  his  lips.  Then  the  light  broke  out 
upon  him  again. 

"All  right,  sir,"  he  said.  "I  take,  and 
thank  you  very  much." 

Manvers  said  immediately,  "I  '11  give 
you  two,"  and  Gil  Perez  accepted  the 
correction  silently,  with  a  bow.  By  the 
end  of  the  day  they  were  on  the  footing  of 
friends,  but  not  without  one  short  crossing 
of  swords.  After  dinner,  when  Manvers 
strolled  to  the  door  of  the  inn,  he  found 
his  guide  waiting  for  him.  Gil  was  in  a 
confidential  humour,  it  seemed. 

"You  care  see  something,  sir?" 

"What  sort  of  a  thing,  for  instance?" 
he  was  asked. 

Gil  Perez  shrugged.  "What  you  like, 
sir."  He  peered  into  his  patron's  face, 
and  there  was  infinite  suggestion  in  his 
next  question.  'You  see  fine  women?" 

Manvers  had  expected  something  of  the 


THE   SPANISH  JADE          119 

sort  and  had  a  steely  stare  ready  for  him. 
"No,  thanks,"  he  said  drily,  and  Gil  saluted 
and  withdrew.  He  was  at  the  door  next 
morning,  affable  yet  respectful,  confident 
in  his  powers  of  pleasing,  of  interesting, 
of  arranging  everything;  but  he  never 
presumed  again.  He  knew  his  affair. 

Three  days'  sightseeing  taught  master 
and  man  their  bearings.  Manvers  got 
into  the  way  of  forgetting  that  Gil  Perez 
was  there,  except  when  it  was  convenient 
to  remember  him;  Gil,  on  his  part,  learned 
to  distinguish  between  his  patron's  solilo- 
quies and  his  conversation.  He  never 
made  a  mistake  after  the  third  day.  If 
Manvers,  in  the  course  of  a  ramble,  stopped 
abruptly,  buried  a  hand  in  his  beard  and 
said  aloud  that  he  would  be  shot  if  he  knew 
which  way  to  turn,  Gil  Perez  watched  him 
closely,  but  made  no  remark. 

Even,  "Look  here,  you  know,  this  won't 
do,"  failed  to  move  him  beyond  a  state 
of  tension,  like  that  of  a  cat  on  the  act 
to  pounce.  He  had  found  out  that 


120          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Manvers  talked  to  himself,  and  was  put 
about  by  interruptions;  and  if  you  realise 
how  sure  and  certain  he  was  that  he 
knew  much  better  than  his  master  what 
was  the  very  thing,  or  the  last  thing,  he 
ought  to  do,  you  will  see  that  he  must 
have  put  considerable  restraint  upon  himself. 

But  loyalty  was  his  supreme  virtue. 
From  the  moment  Manvers  had  taken  him 
on  at  two  pesetas  a  day  he  became  the 
perfect  servant  of  a  perfect  master.  He 
could  have  no  doubt,  naturally,  of  his 
ability  to  serve  —  his  belief  in  himself 
never  wavered;  but  he  had  none  either 
in  his  gentleman's  right  to  command.  I 
believe  if  Manvers  had  desired  him  to 
cut  off  his  right  hand  he  would  have  com- 
plied with  a  smile.  "Very  good,  master. 
You  wanta  my  'and  ?  I  do. " 

If  he  had  a  failing,  it  was  this:  nothing 
on  earth  would  induce  him  to  talk  his 
own  language  to  his  master.  He  was  un- 
moved by  encouragement,  unconvinced  by 
the  fluency  of  Manvers's  Castilian  periods; 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          121 

he    would    have    risked    his    place    upon 
this  one  point  of  honour. 

"Espanish  no  good,  sir,  for  you  an'  me," 
he  said  once  with  an  irresistible  smile. 
'Too  damsilly  for  you.  Capitan  Rodney, 
'e  teach  me  Englisha  speech.  Now  I 
know  it  too  much.  No,  sir.  You  know 
what  they  say  —  them  filosofistas  ?"  he 
asked  him  on  another  encounter.  "They 
say,  God  Almighty  'e  maka  this  world 
in  Latin  -  -  ver'  fine  for  thata  big 
job.  Whata  come  next?  Adamo  'e 
love  'is  lady  in  Espanish  —  esplendid 
for  maka  women  love.  That  old  snaka 
'  e  speak  to  'er  in  French  —  that  persuade 
'er  too  much.  Then  Eva  she  esplain 
in  Italian  —  ver'  soft  espeech.  Adamo 
'e  say,  That  all  righta.  Then  God 
Almighty  ver'  savage.  'E  turn  roun' 
on  them  two.  'E  say,  That  be  damned, 
'e  say,  in  English.  They  understand  'im 
too  much.  Believe  me  —  is  the  best  for 
you  an'  me,  sir.  All  people  understan' 
thata  espeech." 


122          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Taken  as  a  guide,  he  installed  himself 
as  body  servant,  silently,  tactfully,  but 
infallibly.  Manvers  caught  him  one 
morning  putting  boots  by  his  door.  "Hul- 
loa,  Gil  Perez,"  he  called  out,  "what  are 
you  doing  with  my  boots?" 

Gil's  confidential  manner  was  a  thing 
to  drink.  "  That  mozo,  master  —  'e  fool. 
'E  no  maka  shine.  I  show  'im  how 
Capitan  Rodney  lika  'is  boots.  See  'is  a  face 
in  'em."  He  smirked  at  his  own  as  he 
spoke,  and  was  so  pleased  that  Manvers 
said  no  more. 

The  same  night  he  stood  behind  his 
master's  chair.  Manvers  contented  him- 
self by  staring  at  him.  Gil  Perez  smiled 
with  his  bright  eyes  and  became  exceed- 
ingly busy.  Manvers  continued  to  stare, 
and  presently  Gil  Perez  was  observed  to 
be  sweating.  The  poor  fellow  was 
self  -  conscious  for  once  in  his  life. 
Obliged  to  justify  himself,  he  leaned  to 
his  master's  ear. 

"  That  mozo,  sir,  too  much  of  a  dam  f ooL 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          123 

Imposs'  you  estand  'im.  I  tell  'im,  This 
gentleman  no  like  garlic  down  'is  neck. 
I  say,  you  breathe  too  'ard,  my  fellow 
-  too  much  garlic.  This  gentleman  say, 
Crikey,  what  a  stink!  That  no  good." 

There  was  no  comparison  between  the 
new  service  and  the  old;  and  so  it  was 
throughout.  Gil  Perez  drove  out  the 
chambermaid  and  made  Manvers's  bed; 
he  brushed  his  clothes  as  well  as  his 
boots,  changed  his  linen  for  him,  saw  to 
the  wash  —  in  fine,  he  made  himself  in- 
dispensable. But  when  Manvers  announced 
his  coming  departure,  there  was  a  short 
tussle,  preceded  by  a  pause  for  breath. 

Gil  Perez  inquired  of  the  sky,  searched 
up  the  street,  searched  down.  A  group 
of  brown  urchins  hovered,  as  always, 
about  the  stranger,  ready  to  risk  any  deadly 
sin  for  the  chance  of  a  maravedi  or  the 
stump  of  a  cigar. 

Gil  snatched  at  one  by  the  bare  shoulder 
and  spoke  him  burning  words.  "  Canalla" 
he  cried  him,  "horrible  flea!  Thou  makest 


124          THE   SPANISH  JADE 

the  air  to  reek  —  impossible  to  breathe. 
Fly,  thou  gnat  of  the  midden,  or  I  crack 
thee  on  my  thumb." 

The  boys  retired  swearing,  and  Gil,  with 
desperate  calling-up  of  reserves,  faced  his 
ordeal.  :*Ver'  good,  master,  we  go  when 
you  like.  We  see  Escorial  —  fine  place  — 
see  La  Gran j  a,  come  by  Madrid  thata 
way.  I  get  'orses  *ow  you  please." 
Then  he  had  an  inspiration,  and  beamed 
all  over  his  face.  "Or  mules!  We  'ave 
mules.  Mules  cheap,  '  orses  dear  too  much 
in  Segovia." 

Manvers  could  see  very  well  what  he 
was  driving  at.  "I  think  I  '11  take  the 
diligencia,  Gil  Perez." 

Gil  shrugged.  'Ow  you  like,  master. 
Fine  air,  thata  way.  Ver'  cheap  way  to 
go.  You  take  my  advice,  you  go  coupe. 
I  go  redonda  more  cheap.  Give  me  your 
passport,  master  —  I  take  our  place." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Manvers.  "But 
I  'm  not  sure  that  I  need  take  you  on  with 
me.  I  travel  without  a  servant  mostly." 


THE  SPANISH   JADE          125 

Gil  Perez  grappled  with  his  task.  He 
dropped  his  air  of  assumption;  his  eyes 
glittered. 

"I  save  you  money,  master.  You  find 
me  good  servant  —  make  a  difference,  yes  ?" 

"Oh,  a  great  deal  of  difference,"  Manvers 
admitted.  "I  like  you;  you  suit  me  excel- 
lently well,  but "  He  considered  what 

he  had  to  do  in  Madrid,  and  frowned 
over  it.  Manuela  was  there,  and  he  wished 
to  see  Manuela.  He  had  not  calculated 
upon  having  a  servant  when  he  had  promised 
himself  another  interview  with  her,  and 
was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  wanted  one. 
On  the  other  hand,  Gil  might  be  useful 
in  a  number  of  ways  —  and  his  discretion 
and  tact  were  proved.  While  he  hesitated, 
Gil  Perez  saw  his  opportunity  and  darted  in. 

"I  know  Madrid  too  much,"  he  said. 
"All  the  ways,  all  the  peoples  I  know. 
Imposs'  you  live  'appy  in  Madrid  withouta 
me."  He  smiled  all  over  his  face  —  and 
when  he  did  that  he  was  irresistible.  'You 
try,"  he  concluded,  just  like  a  child. 


126          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Manvers,  on  an  impulse,  drew  from  his 
pocket  the  gold-set  crucifix.  "Look  at 
that,  Gil  Perez,"  he  said,  and  put  it  in  his 
hands. 

Gil  looked  gravely  at  it,  back  and  front. 
He  nodded  his  approval.     "Pretty  thing"- 
and  he  decided  offhand.     "In  Valladolid 
they  make." 

"Open  it,"  said  Manvers;  but  it  was 
opened  before  he  had  spoken.  Gil's  eyes 
widened,  while  the  pupils  of  them  contracted 
intensely.  He  read  the  inscription,  pon- 
dered it;  to  the  crucifix  itself  he  gave  but 
a  momentary  glance.  Then  he  shut  the 
case  and  handed  it  back  to  his  master. 

"I  find  'er  for  you,"  he  said  soberly; 
and  that  settled  it. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A    GLIMPSE    OF    MANUELA 

GIL  PEREZ  had  listened  gravely  to  the 
tale  which  his  master  told  him.  He 
nodded  once  or  twice,  and  asked  a  few 
questions  in  the  course  of  the  narrative  — 
questions  of  which  Manvers  could  not  im- 
mediately see  the  bearing.  One  was  con- 
cerned with  her  appearance.  Did  she  wear 
rings  in  her  ears  ?  He  had  to  confess  that  he 
had  not  observed.  Another  was  interjected 
when  he  described  how  she  had  grown  stiff 
under  his  arm  when  Esteban  drew  alongside. 

Gil  had  nodded  rapidly,  and  became  im- 
patient as  Manvers  insisted  on  the  fact. 
"Of  course,  of  course!"  he  had  said,  and 
then  he  asked,  Did  she  stiffen  her  arm 
and  point  the  first  and  last  fingers  of  it, 
keeping  the  middle  pair  clenched  ? 

Manvers  understood  him,  and  replied  that 

127 


128          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

he  had  not  noticed  any  such  thing,  but  that 
he  did  not  believe  she  feared  the  Evil  Eye. 
He  went  on  with  his  story  uninterrupted 
until  the  climax.  He  had  found  the  cruci- 
fix, he  said,  on  his  return  from  bathing, 
and  had  been  pleased  with  her  for  leaving 
it.  Then  he  related  the  discovery  of  the 
body  and  his  talk  with  Fray  Juan  de  la 
Cruz.  Here  came  in  Gil's  third  question. 
"Did  she  return  your  'andkerchief  ?"  he 
asked  —  and  sharply. 

Manvers  started.  "By  George,  she  never 
did!"  he  exclaimed.  "And  I  don't  wonder 
at  it,"  he  said,  on  reflection.  "If  she  had 
to  knife  that  fellow,  and  confess  to  Fray 
Juan,  and  escape  for  her  life,  she  had 
enough  to  do.  Of  course,  she  may  have 
left  it  in  the  wood." 

Gil  Perez  pressed  his  lips  together. 
"She  got  it  still,"  he  said.  "We  find 
'er  —  I  know  where  to  look  for  it." 

If  he  did  he  kept  his  knowledge  to  him- 
self, though  he  spoke  freely  enough  of 
Manuela  on  the  way  to  Madrid. 


THE   SPANISH  JADE          129 

'This  Manuela,"  he  explained,  "is  a 
Valenciana  —  where  you  find  fair  women 
with  black  men.  Valencianos  like  Moors 
—  love  too  much  white  women.  I  think 
Manuela  is  not  Gitanilla ;  she  is  what 
you  call  a  Alfanalf .  Then  she  is  like  the 
Gitanas,  as  proud  as  a  fire,  but  all  the 
same  a  Christian  —  make  free  with  'er- 
self.  A  Gitana  never  dare  love  Christian 
man  —  imposs'  she  do  that.  Sometimes  all 
the  same  she  do  it.  I  think  Manuela 
made  like  that." 

Committed  to  the  statement,  he  presently 
saw  a  cheerful  solution  of  it.  "Soon  see!" 
he  added,  and  considered  other  problems. 
"That  dead  man  follow  Manuela  to  kill 
'er,"  he  decided.  "When  'e  find  'er  with 
you,  master,  'e  say,  'Now  I  know  why  you 
run,  hija  de  perra.  Now  I  kill  two  and 
get  a  'orse.'  You  see?" 

"Yes,"  said  Manvers,  "I  see  that.  And 
you  think  that  he  told  her  what  he  meant 
to  do  ?" 

"Of    course   Je   tell,"   said     Gil     Perez 


130          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

with  scorn.  "Make  it  too  bad  for  'er. 
Make  'er  feel  sick." 

"Brute!"  cried  Manvers;  but  Gil  went 
blandly  on. 

"  'E  'ate  'er  so  much  that  'e  feel 
'ungry  and  thirsty.  'E  feed  before  'e 
kill.  Must  do  it  —  too  'ungry.  Then  she 
go  near  'im,  twisting  'erself  about  — 
showing  'erself  to  please  'iin.  'You  kiss 
me,  my  'eart,'  she  say;  *I  love  you  all  the 
same.  Kiss  me  —  then  you  kill.'  'E 
look  at  'er  —  she  very  fine  girl  —  give 
pleasure  to  see.  'E  think,  *I  love  'er 
first  —  strangle  after' —  and  go  on  looking. 
She  'old  'im  fast  and  drag  down  'is 
'ead  —  all  the  time  she  know  where 
'e  keep  navaja.  She  cling  and  kiss  — 
then  nip  out  navaja,  and  click!  'E 
dead  man."  Enthusiasm  burned  in  his 
black  eyes,  he  stood  cheering  in  his 
stirrups.  "Sefior  Don  Dios!  that  very  fine! 
I  give  twenty  dollars  to  see  'er  make 
'im  love." 

Manvers,  for  his  part,  grew  the   colder 


THE  SPANISH  JADE          131 

as  his  man  waxed  warm.  He  was  clear, 
however,  that  he  must  find  the  girl  and 
protect  her  from  any  trouble  that  might 
ensue.  She  had  put  herself  within  the  law 
to  save  him  from  the  knife;  she  must 
certainly  be  defended  from  the  perils  of 
the  law. 

From  what  he  could  learn  of  Spanish 
justice  that  meant  money  and  influence. 
These  she  should  have;  but  there  should 
be  no  more  pastorals.  Her  kisses  had  been 
sweet,  the  aftertaste  was  sour  in  the  mouth. 
Gil  Perez  with  his  eloquence  and  dramatic 
fire  had  cured  him  of  hankering  after  more 
of  them.  The  girl  was  a  rip,  and  there 
was  an  end  of  it. 

He  did  not  blame  himself  in  the  least 
for  having  kissed  a  rip  —  once.  There  was 
nothing  in  that.  But  he  had  kissed  her 
twice  —  and  that  second  kiss  had  given 
significance  to  the  first.  To  think  of  it 
made  him  sore  all  over;  it  implied  a  tender 
relation, -it  made  him  seem  the  girl's  lover. 
Why,  it  almost  justified  that  sick-faced, 


132          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

grinning  rascal,  whose  staring  eyes  had 
shocked  him  out  of  his  senses.  And  what 
a  damned  fool  he  had  made  of  himself 
with  the  crucifix!  He  ground  his  teeth 
together  as  he  cursed  himself  for  a  senti- 
mental idiot. 

For  the  rest  of  the  way  it  was  Gil  Perez 
who  cried  up  the  quest  —  until  he  was 
curtly  told  by  his  master  to  talk  about 
something  else;  and  then  Gil  could  have 
bitten  his  tongue  off  for  saying  a  word 
too  much. 

A  couple  of  days  at  the  Escorial,  with 
nothing  of  Manuela  to  interfere,  served 
Manvers  to  recover  his  tone.  Before  he 
was  in  the  capital  he  was  again  that  good 
and  happy  traveller,  to  whom  all  things 
come  well  in  their  seasons,  to  whom  the 
seasons  of  all  things  are  the  seasons  at 
which  they  come.  He  liked  the  bustle 
and  flaunt  of  Madrid,  he  liked  its  brazen 
front,  its  crowded  carreras,  and  appetite 
for  shows.  There  was  hardly  a  day  when 
the  windows  of  the  Puerta  del  Sol  had  not 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          133 

carpets  on  their  balconies.  Files  of  halber- 
diers went  daily  to  and  from  the  Palace 
and  the  Atocha,  escorting  some  gilded, 
swinging  coach;  and  every  time  the  Madril- 
enos  serried  and  craned  their  heads.  "Viva 
Isabella!"  "Abajo  Don  Carlos /"  or  some- 
times the  other  way  about,  the  cries  went 
up.  Politics  buzzed  all  about  the  square 
in  the  morning;  evening  brimmed  the 
cafes. 

Manvers  resumed  his  soul,  became  again 
the  amused  observer.  Gil  Perez  bided 
his  time,  and  contented  himself  with 
being  the  perfect  body-servant,  which  he 
undoubtedly  was. 

On  the  first  Sunday  after  arrival,  with- 
out any  order,  he  laid  before  his  master 
a  ticket  for  the  corrida,  such  a  one  as 
comported  with  his  dignity;  but  not  until 
he  was  sure  of  his  ground  did  he  pre- 
sume to  discuss  the  gory  spectacle. 
Then,  at  dinner,  he  discovered  that 
Manvers  had  been  more  interested  in  the 
spectators  than  the  fray,  and  allowed 


134          THE   SPANISH  JADE 

himself  free  discourse.  The  Queen  and 
the  Court,  the  alcalde  and  the  Prime 
Minister,  the  manolos  and  manolas  —  he 
had  plenty  to  say,  and  to  leave  unsaid. 
He  just  glanced  at  the  performers  —  impos- 
sible to  omit  the  espada  —  Corchuelo,  the 
first  in  Spain.  But  the  fastidious  in  Man- 
vers  was  awake  and  edgy.  He  had  not 
liked  the  bull-fight;  so  Gil  Perez  kept  out 
of  the  arena.  "I  see  one  very  grand  old 
gentleman  there,  master,"  was  one  of  his 
chance  casts.  ;*You  see  'im?  'E  grandee 
of  Espain,  too  much  poor,  proud  all  the 
same.  Put  'is  'at  on  so  soon  the  Queen 
come  in  —  Don  Luis  Ramonez  de  Alavia." 

"Who's  he?"  asked  Manvers. 

"Great  gentleman  of  Valladolid,"  said 
Gil  Perez.  "  Grandee  of  Espain  —  no 
money  —  only  pride."  He  did  not  add, 
as  he  might,  that  he  had  seen  Manuela, 
or  was  pretty  sure  that  he  had.  That  was 
delicate  ground. 

But  Manvers,  who  had  forgotten  all 
about  her,  went  cheerfully  his  ways,  and 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          135 

amused  himself  in  his  desultory  fashion. 
After  the  close-pent  streets  of  Segovia,  where 
the  wayfarer  seems  throttled  by  the  houses, 
and  one  looks  up  for  light  and  pants  toward 
the  stars  and  the  air,  he  was  pleased  by 
the  breath  of  Madrid.  The  Puerta  del 
Sol  was  magnificent  —  like  a  lake ;  the 
Alcala  and  San  Geronimo  were  noble 
rivers,  feeding  it.  He  liked  them  at  dawn 
when  the  hosepipe  had  been  newly  at  work 
and  these  great  spaces  of  emptiness  lay 
gleaming  in  the  mild  sunlight,  exhaling 
freshness  like  that  of  dewy  lawns.  When, 
under  the  glare  of  noon,  they  lay  slumbrous, 
they  were  impressive  by  their  prodigality 
of  width  and  scope ;  in  the  bustle  and  hum  of 
dusk,  with  the  cafes  filling,  and  spilling  over 
on  to  the  pavements,  he  could  not  tire  of  them ; 
but  at  night,  the  mystery  of  their  magic  en- 
thralled him.  How  could  one  sleep  in  such  a 
city  ?  The  Puerta  del  Sol  was  then  a  sea  of 
dark  fringed  with  shores  of  bright  light.  The 
two  huge  feeders  of  it  —  with  what  argo- 
sies they  teemed!  Shrouded  craft! 


136          THE  SPANISH  JADE 

That  touch  of  the  East,  which  yqu  can 
never  miss  in  Spain,  wherever  you  may  be, 
was  unmistakable  in  Madrid,  in  spite  of 
Court  and  commerce,  in  spite  of  newspaper, 
of  Stock  Exchange,  or  Cortes.  The  cloaked 
figures  moved  silently,  swiftly,  seldom  in  pairs, 
without  speech,  with  footfall  scarcely  audible. 
Now  and  again  he  heard  the  throb  of  a  guitar, 
now  and  again,  with  sudden  clamour,  the  clack 
of  castanets.  But  such  noises  stopped  on 
the  instant,  and  the  traffic  was  resumed  - 
whatever  it  was  —  secret,  swift,  impene- 
trable business. 

For  the  most  part  this  traffic  of  the  night 
was  conducted  by  men  —  young  or  old, 
as  may  be.  The  capa  hid  them  all,  kept 
their  semblance  as  secret  as  their  affairs. 
Here  and  there,  but  rarely,  walked  a 
woman,  superbly,  as  Spanish  women  will, 
with  a  self-sufficiency  almost  arrogantly 
strong,  robed  in  white,  hooded  with  a 
white  veil.  The  mantilla  came  streaming 
from  the  comb,  swathed  her  pale  cheeks 
and  enhanced  her  lustrous  eyes;  but  from 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          137 

top  to  toe  she  was  (whatever  else  she  may 
have  been,  and  it  was  not  difficult  to  guess) 
in  white.  Manvers  watched  them  pass  and 
repass;  at  a  distance  they  looked  like 
moths,  but  close  at  hand  showed  the 
carriage  and  intolerance  of  queens.  They 
looked  at  him  fairly  as  they  passed,  un- 
ashamed and  unconcerned.  Their  eyes 
asked  nothing  from  him,  their  lips  wooed 
him  not.  There  was  none  of  the  invitation 
such  women  extend  elsewhere;  far  other- 
wise, it  was  the  men  who  craved,  the 
women  who  dispensed.  When  they  listened, 
it  was  as  to  a  petitioner  on  his  knees, 
when  they  gave,  it  was  like  an  alms.  Impe- 
rious, free-moving,  high-headed  creatures, 
they  interested  him  deeply. 

It  was  true,  as  Gil  Perez  was  quick  to  see, 
that  at  his  first  bull-fight  he  had  been  un- 
moved by  the  actors,  but  stirred  to  the  deeps 
by  the  spectators;  if  he  had  cared  to  see 
another,  it  would  have  been  to  explore  the 
secrets  of  this  wonderful  people,  who  could 
become  animals  without  ceasing  to  be  men 


138          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

and  women.  But  why  jostle  on  a  bench, 
why  endure  the  dust  and  glare  of  a  corrida 
when  you  can  see  what  Madrid  can  show 
you:  the  women  by  the  Manzanares,  or 
the  nightly  dramas  of  the  streets  ? 

Love  in  Spain,  he  began  to  learn,  is  a 
terrible  thing;  a  grim  tussle  of  wills,  a 
matter  of  life  and  death,  of  meat  and  drink. 
He  saw  lovers,  still  as  death,  with  upturned 
faces,  tense  and  white,  eating  the  iron  of 
guarded  balconies.  Hour  by  hour  they 
would  stand  there,  waiting,  watching,  hop- 
ing on.  No  one  interfered,  no  one  remarked 
them.  He  heard  a  woman  wail  for  her  lover 
—  wail  and  rock  herself  about,  careless  of 
who  saw  or  heard  her,  and  indeed  neither 
seen  nor  heard.  Once  he  saw  a  couple 
close  together,  vehement  speech  between 
them.  A  lovers'  quarrel,  terrible  affair! 
The  words  seemed  to  scald.  The  man 
had  had  his  say,  and  now  it  was  her  turn. 
He  listened  to  her,  touched  but  not  per- 
suaded— had  his  reasons,  no  doubt.  But 
she!  Manvers  had  not  believed  the  heart 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


of  a  girl  could  hold  such  a  gamut  of  emo- 
tions. She  was  young,  slim,  very  pale  ;  her 
face  was  as  white  as  her  robe.  But  her  eyes 
were  like  burning  lakes;  and  her  voice, 
hoarse  though  she  had  made  herself, 
had  a  cry  in  it  as  sharp  as  a  violin's  to  cut 
the  very  soul  of  you.  She  spoke  with  her 
hands  too,  with  her  shoulders  and  bosom, 
with  her  head  and  stamping  foot.  She 
never  faltered,  though  she  ran  from  scorn 
of  him  to  deep  scorn  of  herself,  and  appealed 
in  turn  to  his  pride,  his  pity,  his  honour, 
and  his  lust.  She  had  no  reticence,  set 
no  bounds:  she  was  everything  or  nothing; 
he  was  a  god,  or  dirt  of  the  kennel.  In 
the  end  —  and  what  a  climax  !  —  she 
stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence, 
covered  her  eyes,  sobbed,  gave  a  broken 
cry,  turned,  and  fled  away. 

The  man,  left  alone,  spread  his  arms 
out  and  lifted  his  face  to  the  sky,  as  if 
appealing  for  the  compassion  of  Heaven. 
Manvers  could  see  by  the  light  of  a  lamp 
which  fell  upon  him  that  there  were  tears 


140          THE  SPANISH   JADE 

in  his  eyes.  He  was  pitying  himself 
deeply.  "Senor  Jesu,  have  pity!"  he  heard 
him  saying.  :*  What  could  I  do  ?  Woe 
upon  me,  what  could  I  do  ?" 

To  him  there,  as  he  stood  wavering, 
returned  suddenly  the  girl.  As  swiftly  as 
she  had  gone  she  came  back,  like  a  white 
squall.  "Ah,  son  of  a  thief!  Ah,  son  of  a 
dog!"  and  she  struck  him  down  with  a  knife 
over  the  shoulder-blade.  He  gasped,  groaned, 
and  dropped;  and  she  was  upon  his  breast 
in  a  minute,  moaning  her  pity  and  love. 
She  stroked  his  face,  crooned  over  him, 
lavished  the  loveliest  vocables  of  her  tongue 
upon  his  worthless  carcass,  and  won  him 
by  the  very  excess  of  her  passion.  The 
fallen  man  turned  in  her  arms,  and  met 
her  lips  with  his. 

Manvers  shaking  with  excitement,  left 
them.  Here  again  was  a  Manuela !  Manu- 
ela,  her  burnt  face  on  fire,  her  eyes 
blown  fierce  by  rage,  her  tawny  hair 
streaming  in  the  wind;  Manuela  with  a 
knife,  hacking  the  life  out  of  Esteban, 


THE  SPANISH  JADE          141 

came  vividly  before  him.  Ah,  those  soft 
lips  of  hers  could  bare  the  teeth;  within 
an  hour  of  his  kissing  her  she  must  have 
bared  them,  when  she  snarled  on  that 
other.  And  her  eyes  which  had  peered 
into  his,  to  see  if  liking  were  there  —  how 
had  they  gleamed  upon  the  man  she  slew  ? 
Her  sleekness  then  was  that  of  the  cat; 
but  she  had  had  no  claws  for  him. 

Why  had  she  left  him  her  crucifix  ?  After 
all,  had  she  murdered  the  fellow,  or  pro- 
tected herself  ?  She  told  the  monk  that  she 
had  been  driven  into  a  corner  —  to  save 
Manvers  and  herself.  Was  he  to  believe 
that  —  or  his  own  eyes  ?  His  eyes  had  just 
seen  a  Spanish  girl  with  her  lover,  and  his 
judgment  was  warped.  Manuela  might  be 
of  that  sort  —  she  had  not  been  so  to  him. 
Nor  could  she  ever  be  so,  since  there  was 
no  question  of  love  between  them  now, 
and  never  could  be. 

"Come  now,"  thus  he  reasoned  with 
himself,  "Come  now,  let  us  be  reasonable.'* 
He  had  pulled  her  out  of  a  scuffle  and  she 


142          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

had  been  grateful;  she  was  pretty,  he  had 
kissed  her.  She  was  grateful,  and  had 
knifed  a  man  who  meant  him  mischief 
—  and  she  had  left  him  a  crucifix. 

Gratitude  again.  What  had  her  gipsy 
skin  and  red  kerchief  to  do  with  her  heart  ? 
"  Beware,  my  son,  of  the  pathetic  fallacy," 
he  told  himself,  and  as  he  turned  into 
the  carrera  San  Geronimo,  beheld  Manuela 
robed  in  white  pass  along  the  street. 

He  knew  her  immediately,  though  her 
face  had  but  flashed  upon  him,  and  there 
was  not  a  stitch  upon  her  to  remind  him 
of  the  ragged  creature  of  the  plain.  A 
white  mantilla  covered  her  hair,  a  white 
gown  hid  her  to  the  ankles.  He  had  a 
glimpse  of  a  white  stocking,  and  remarked 
her  high-heeled  white  slippers.  Startling 
transformation!  But  she  walked  like  a 
free-moving  creature  of  the  open,  and 
breasted  the  hot  night  as  if  she  had  been 
speeding  through  a  woodland  way.  That 
was  Manuela,  who  had  killed  a  man  to 
save  him. 


THE  SPANISH  JADE          143 

After  a  moment  or  so  of  hesitation  he 
followed  her,  keeping  his  distance.  She 
walked  steadily  up  the  carrera,  looking 
neither  to  right  nor  to  left.  Many  re- 
marked her,  some  tried  to  stop  her.  A 
soldier  followed  her  pertinaciously,  till, 
presently  she  turned  upon  him  in  splendid 
rage  and  bade  him  be  off. 

Manvers  praised  her  for  that,  and,  quick- 
ening, gained  upon  her.  She  turned  up  a 
narrow  street  on  the  right.  It  was  empty. 
Manvers,  gaining  rapidly,  drew  up  level. 
They  were  now  walking  abreast,  with  only 
the  street-way  between  them;  but  she  kept  a 
rigid  profile  to  him  —  as  severe,  as  proud 
and  fine  as  the  Arethusa's  on  a  coin  of 
Syracuse.  The  resemblance  was  striking; 
straight  nose,  short  lip,  rounded  chin;  the 
strong  throat,  unwinking  eyes,  looking 
straight  before  her;  and  adding  to  these 
beauties  of  contour  her  splendid  colouring 
and  carriage  of  a  young  goddess,  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  Manvers  was  dazzled. 

It  is  true;  he  was  confounded  by  the  excess 


144          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

of  her  beauty  and  by  his  knowledge  of  her 
condition.  His  experiences  of  life  and 
cities  could  give  him  no  parallel;  but  they 
could  and  did  give  him  a  dangerous  sense 
of  power.  This  glowing,  salient  creature 
was  for  him,  if  he  would.  One  word,  and 
she  was  at  his  feet. 

For  a  moment,  as  he  walked  nearly 
abreast  of  her,  he  was  ready  to  throw  every- 
thing that  was  natural  to  him  to  the  winds. 
She  stirred  a  depth  hi  him  which  he  had 
known  nothing  of.  He  felt  himself  trem- 
bling all  over  —  but  while  he  hesitated 
a  quick  step  behind  caused  him  to  look 
round.  He  saw  a  man  following  Manuela, 
and  presently  that  it  was  Gil  Perez. 

And  Gil,  with  none  of  his  own  caution, 
walked  on  her  side  of  the  street  and, 
overtaking  her,  took  off  his  hat  and 
accosted  her  by  some  name  which  caused 
her  to  turn  like  a  beast  at  bay.  Nothing 
abashed,  Gil  asked  her  a  question  which 
clapped  a  hand  to  her  side  and  sent  her 
cowering  to  the  wall.  She  leaned  panting 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          145 

there  while  he  talked  rapidly,  explaining 
with  suavity  and  point.  It  was  very  interest- 
ing to  Manvers  to  watch  these  two  together, 
to  see,  for  instance,  how  Gil  Perez  com- 
ported himself  out  of  his  master's  presence ; 
or  how  Manuela  dealt  with  one  of  her 
own  nation.  They  became  strangers  to 
him,  people  he  had  never  known.  He  felt 
a  foreigner  indeed. 

The  greatest  courtesy  was  observed, 
the  most  exact  distance.  Gil  Perez  kept 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  his  body  at  a 
deferential  angle.  His  weaving  hands 
were  never  still.  Manuela,  her  first  act 
of  royal  rage  ended,  held  herself  su- 
perbly. Her  eyes  were  half  closed,  her 
lips  tightly  so;  and  she  so  contrived  as  to 
get  the  effect  of  looking  down  upon  him 
from  a  height.  Manvers  imagined  that 
his  name  or  person  was  being  brought  into 
play,  for  once  Manuela  looked  at  her 
companion  and  bowed  her  head  gravely. 
Gil  Perez  ran  on  with  his  explanations, 
and  apparently  convinced  her  judgment, 


146         THE  SPANISH  JADE 

for  she  seemed  to  consent  to  something 
which  he  asked  of  her;  and  presently 
walked  on  her  way  with  a  high  head,  while 
Gil  Perez,  still  holding  his  hat,  and  still 
explaining,  walked  with  her,  but  a  little 
way  behind  her. 

A  cooling  experience.  Manvers  strolled 
back  to  his  hotel  and  his  bed,  with  his 
unsuspected  nature  deeply  hidden  again 
out  of  sight.  He  wondered  whether  Gil 
Perez  would  have  anything  to  tell  him  in 
the  morning,  or  whether,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  would  be  discreetly  silent  as  to  the 
adventure.  He  wondered  next  where  that 
adventure  would  end.  He  had  no  reason 
to  suppose  his  servant  a  man  of  refined 
sensibilities.  Remembering  his  eloquence 
on  the  road  to  Madrid,  the  paean  he  blew 
upon  the  fairness  of  Valencian  women, 
he  laughed.  "Here's  a  muddy  wash  upon 
my  blood-boltered  pastoral,"  he  said  aloud. 
"Here's  an  end  of  my  knight-errantry 
indeed!" 

There  was  nearly  an  end  of  him  —  for 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          147 

almost  at  the  same  moment  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  light  step  behind  him  and  of  a 
sharp  stinging  pain  and  a  blow  in  the  back. 
He  turned  wildly  round  and  struck  out 
with  his  stick.  A  man,  doubled  in  two, 
ran  like  a  hare  down  the  empty  street  and 
vanished  into  the  dark.  Manvers,  feeling 
sick  and  faint,  leaned  to  recover  himself 
against  a  doorway,  and  probably  fell;  for 
when  he  came  to  himself  he  was  in  his 
bed  in  the  hotel,  with  Gil  Perez  and  a 
grave  gentleman  in  black  standing  beside 
him. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CHIVALRY  OF  GIL  PEREZ 

HE  FELT  stiff  and  stupid,  with  a 
roasting  spot  in  his  back  between 
his  shoulders;  but  he  was  able  to  see  the 
light  in  Gil  Perez's  eyes  —  which  was  a 
good  light,  saying,  "Well  so  far --but  I 
look  for  more."  Neither  Gil  nor  the 
spectacled  gentleman  in  black  —  the  sur- 
geon, he  presumed  —  spoke  to  him,  and 
disinclined  for  speech  himself,  Manvers  lay 
watching  their  tiptoe  ministrations,  with 
spells  of  comfortable  dozing  in  between, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  again  lost  touch 
with  the  world  of  Spain. 

When  he  came  to  once  more  he  was 
much  better,  and  felt  hungry.  He  saw 
Gil  Perez  by  the  window,  reading  a  little 
book.  The  sun-blinds  were  down  to  darken 
the  room;  Gil  held  his  book  slantwise  to 

148 


THE   SPANISH  JADE          149 

a  chink  and  read  diligently,  moving  his 
lips  to  pronounce  the  words. 

"Gil  Perez/*  said  Manvers,  "what  are 

you   reading?"     Gil  jumped   up   at  once. 

'You   better,    sir?      Praised   be   God!     I 

read,"    he    said,    "a    little    Catholic    book 

which  calls  itself  'The  Garden  of  the  Soul' 

-  ver'   good   little   book.     What  you   call 

ver'     'ealthy  —  ver'    good    for    'im.      But 

you    are    better,    master.     You    'ungry  — 

I  get  you  a  broth."     Which  he  did,  having 

it  hot  and  hot  in  the  next  room. 

"Now  I  tell  you  all  the  'istory  of  this 
affair,"  he  said.  "Last  night  I  seen  Manuela 
out  a  walking.  I  follow  'er  too  much  — 
salute  'er  —  she  lift  'er  'ead  back  to  strike 
me  dead.  I  say,  'Senorita,  one  word. 
Why  you  give  your  crucifix  to  my  master  — 
ha  ?'  Sir,  she  began  to  shake  — 'ead  shake, 
knee  shake;  I  think  she  fall  into  'erself. 
You  see  flowers  in  frost  all  estiff,  stand 
up  all  right.  By  'n  by  the  sun,  'e  climb  the 
sky  —  thosa  flowers  they  fall  esquash  — 
all  rotten  insida.  So  Manuela  fall  into 


150          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

'erself .  Then  I  talk  to  'er  —  she  tell  me 
all  the  'istory  of  thata  time.  She  kill 
Esteban  Vincaz,  she  tell  me  —  kill  'im 
quick  just  what  I  told  you.  Becausa  why  ? 
Becausa  she  dicksure  Esteban  kill  you. 
But  I  say  to  'er,  Manuela  that  was  too  bad, 
lady.  Kill  Esteban  all  the  same.  Ver' 
good  for  'im,  send  'im  what  you  call 
kingdom-come  like  a  shot.  But  you  leava 
that  crucifix  on  my  master's  plate  —  make 
him  tender,  too  sorry  for  you.  'E  think, 
thata  nice  girl,  very.  I  like  'er  too  much. 
Now  'e  'as  your  crucifix  in  gold,  lika  piece 
of  Vera  Cruz,  lika  Santa  Teresa's  finger, 
and  all  the  world  know  you  kill  Esteban 
Vincaz  and  'e  like  you.  Sir,  I  make  'er 
sorry  —  she  begin  to  cry.  I  think"  -  and 
Gil  Perez  walked  to  the  window  — "I  think 
Manuela  ver'  fine  girl  —  lika  rose.  Now, 
master" — and  he  returned  to  the  bed—  "  I  tell 
you  something.  That  man  who  estab  you 
las'  night  was  Tormillo.  You  know  who  ?" 
Manvers  shook  his  head.  "Never  heard 
of  him,  my  friend.  Who  is  he?" 


THE  SPANISH   JADE          151 

'E  is  servant  to  Don  Luis  Ramonez, 
the  same  I  see  at  the  corrida.  I  tell  you 
about  'im  —  no  money,  all  pride." 

Manvers  stared.  "And  will  you  have 
the  goodness  to  tell  me  why  Don  Luis 
should  want  to  have  me  stabbed  ?" 

"I  tell  you,  sir,"  said  Gil  Perez.  "Este- 
ban  Vincaz  was  Don  Bartolome  Ramonez, 
son  to  Don  Luis.  Bad  son  'e  was,  if  you 
like,  sir.  WiF  oats,  what  you  call.  All 
the  sama  nobleman,  all  the  sama  only  son 
to  Don  Luis." 

Manvers  considered  this  oracle  with  what 
light  he  had.  "Don  Luis  supposes  that 
I  killed  his  son,  then,"  he  said.  "Is  that  it  ?" 

'  'E  damsure,"  said  Gil  Perez,blinking  fast. 

"On  Manuela's  account  —  eh?" 

"Like  a  shot!"  cried  Gil  Perez  with 
enthusiasm. 

"So  of  course  he  thinks  it  is  his  duty  to 
kill  me  in  return." 

"Of  course  'e  does,  sir,"  said  Gil.  "I 
tell  you,  'e  is  proud  like  the  devil." 

"I    understand    you,"     said     Manvers. 


152          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"But  why  does  he  hire  a  servant  to  do  his 
revenges  ?" 

"Because  'e  think  you  dog,"  Gil  replied 
calmly.  "  'E  not  beara  touch  you  witha 
poker." 

Manvers  laughed,  and  said,  "  We  '11  leave 
it  at  that.  Now  I  want  to  know  one  more 
thing.  How  on  earth  did  Don  Luis  find 
out  that  I  was  in  the  wood  with  Manuela 
and  his  son?" 

"Ah,"  said  Gil  Perez,  "now  you  aska 
me  something.  Who  knows  ?"  He  shrug- 
ged profusely.  Then  his  face  cleared. 
"Leave  it  to  me,  sir.  I  ask  Tormillo." 
He  was  on  his  feet,  as  if  about  to  find  the 
assassin  there  and  then. 

"Stop  a  bit,"  said  Manvers,  "stop  a  bit, 
Gil.  Now  I  must  tell  you  that  I  also  saw 
Manuela  last  night." 

"Ah,"  said  Gil  Perez  softly;  and  his 
eyes  glittered. 

"I  saw  her  in  the  street,"  Manvers 
continued,  watching  his  servant.  "She  was 
all  in  white." 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          153 

Gil  Perez  blinked  this  fact.  :<Yes,  sir," 
he  said.  "That  is  true.  Poor  girl."  His 
eyes  clouded  over.  "Poor  Manuela!"  he 
was  heard  to  say  to  himself. 

"I  followed  her  for  a  while,"  said  Man- 
vers,  "and  saw  you  catch  her  up,  and  stop 
her.  Then  I  went  away;  and  then  that 
rascal  struck  me  in  the  back.  Now  do 
you  suppose  that  Don  Luis  means  to  serve 
Manuela  the  same  way?" 

Gil  Perez  did  not  blink  any  more.  "  I  think 
'e  wisha  that,"  he  said ;  "but  I  think  'e  won't." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  tell  Manuela  what  I  see  at 
the  corrida.  She  was  there  too.  She  know 
it  already.  Bless  you,  she  don't  care." 

"But  I  care,"  said  Manvers  sharply. 
"I  've  got  her  on  my  conscience.  I  don't 
intend  her  to  suffer  on  my  account." 

"That,"  said  Gil  Perez,  "is  what  she 
wanta  do."  He  looked  piercingly  at  his 
master.  :<  You  know,  sir,  I  ask  'er  for  your 
'andkerchief." 

"Well?"   Manvers  raised  his  eyebrows. 


154          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"I  tell  you  whata  she  do.  She  look 
allaways  in  the  dark.  Nobody  there. 
Then  she  open  'er  gown  —  so  " —  and 
Gil  held  apart  the  bosom  of  his  shirt.  "I 
see  it  in  there."  There  were  tears  in  Gil's 
eyes.  "Poor  Manuela!"  he  murmured, 
as  if  that  helped  him.  "I  make  'er  give 
it  me.  No  good  she  keepa  that  in  there." 

"Where  is  it?"  he  was  asked.  He  tried 
to  be  his  jaunty  self  but  failed. 

"Not  'ere,  sir.  I  'ave  it  —  I  senda  to 
the  wash."  Manvers  looked  keenly  at 
him,  but  said  nothing.  He  had  a  suspicion 
that  Gil  Perez  was  telling  a  lie. 

"You  had  better  get  her  out  of  Madrid," 
he  said  after  a  while.  "There  may  be 
trouble.  Let  her  go  and  hide  herself 
somewhere  until  this  has  blown  over. 
Give  me  my  pocket-book."  He  took  a 
couple  of  bills  out  and  handed  them  to 
Gil.  "There's  a  hundred  for  her.  Get 
her  into  some  safe  place  —  and  the  sooner 
the  better.  We  '11  see  her  through  this 
business  somehow." 


THE   SPANISH  JADE          155 

Gil  Perez  —  very  unlike  himself  —  sud- 
denly snatched  at  his  hand  and  kissed 
it.  Then  he  sprang  to  his  feet  again  and 
tried  to  look  as  if  he  had  never  done  such 
a  thing.  He  went  to  the  door  and  put  his 
head  out,  listening.  "Doctor  coming,"  he 
said.  "All  righta  leave  you  with  'im." 

"Of  course  it's  all  right,"  said  Manvers. 
But  Gil  shook  his  head. 

"Don  Luis  make  me  sick,"  he  said. 
"No  use  'e  come  here." 

'You  mean  that  he  might  have  another 
shot  at  me?" 

Gil  nodded;  very  wide-eyed  and  serious 
he  was.  "  'E  try.  I  know  'im  too  much." 
Manvers  shut  his  eyes. 

"I  expect  he  '11  have  the  decency  to  wait 
till  I  'm  about  again.  Anyhow,  I  '11  risk 
it.  What  you  have  to  do  is  to  get  Manuela 
away." 

;'Yes  sir,"  said  Gil  in  his  best  English, 
and  admitted  the  surgeon  with  a  bow. 
Then  he  went  lightfooted  out  of  the  room 
and  shut  the  door  after  him. 


156          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

He  was  away  two  hours  or  more,  and 
when  he  returned  seemed  perfectly  happy. 

"Manuela  quite  safa  now,"  he  told  his 
master. 

" Where  is  she,  Gil?"  he  was  asked,  and 
waved  his  hand  airily  for  reply. 

"She  all  right,  sir.  Near  'ere.  Quita 
safe.  Presently  I  see  *er."  He  could  not 
be  brought  nearer  than  that.  Questioned 
on  other  matters,  he  reported  that  he  had 
failed  to  find  either  Don  Luis  or  Tormillo, 
and  was  quite  unable  to  say  how  they  knew 
of  his  master's  relations  with  the  Valencian 
girl,  or  what  their  further  intentions  were. 
His  chagrin  at  having  been  found  wanting 
in  any  single  task  set  him  was  a  great 
delight  to  Manvers,  and  amused  the  slow 
hours  of  his  convalescence. 

His  wound,  which  was  deep  but  not  dan- 
gerous, healed  well  and  quickly.  In  ten 
days  he  was  up  again  and  inquiring  for 
Manuela's  whereabouts.  Better  not  see 
her,  he  was  advised,  until  it  was  perfectly 
certain  that  Don  Luis  was  appeased.  Gil 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          157 

promised  that  in  a  few  days'  time  he  would 
give  an  account  of  everything. 

It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  he  would 
have  kept  his  word  had  not  events  been 
too  many  for  him.  One  day  after  dinner 
he  asked  his  master  if  he  might  speak  to 
him.  On  receiving  permission,  he  drew 
him  apart  into  a  little  room,  the  door  of 
which  he  locked. 

"Hulloa,  Gil  Perez/  said  Manvers,  "what 
is  your  game  now  ?" 

"Sir, "  said  Gil,  holding  his  head  up,  and 
looking  him  full  in  the  face.  "I  must 
espeak  to  you  about  Manuela.  She  is  in 
the  Carcel  de  la  Corte  —  to-morrow  they 
take  'er  to  the  Audiencia  about  that  assas- 
sination." He  folded  his  arms  and  waited, 
watching  the  effect  of  his  words. 

Manvers  was  greatly  perturbed.  "Then 
you  've  made  a  mess  of  it,"  he  said  angrily. 
*  You've  made  a  mess  of  it." 

"No  mess,"  said  Gil  Perez.  "She  tell 
me  must  go  to  jail.  I  say,  all  righta, 
lady." 


158          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

'You  had  no  business  to  say  anything 
of  the  sort,"  Manvers  said.  "I  am  sorry 
I  ever  allowed  you  to  interfere.  I  am 
very  much  annoyed  with  you,  Perez."  He 
had  never  called  him  Perez  before  —  and 
that  hurt  Gil  more  than  anything.  His 
voice  betrayed  his  feelings. 

'You  casta  me  off  —  call  me  Perez, 
lika  stranger !  All  right,  sir  —  what  you 
like,"  he  stammered.  "I  tell  you  Manuela 
very  fine  girl  —  and  why  the  devil  I 
make  'er  bad  ?  No,  sir,  that  imposs'. 
She  too  good  for  me.  She  say,  Don  Luis 
estab  my  saviour!  Never  never,  for  me! 
I  show  Don  Luis  what's  whata,  she  say. 
I  give  myself  up  to  justice;  then  'e  keepa 
quiet  —  say,  That  's  all  right.  So  she  say 
to  Paquita  —  that  big  girl  who  sleep  with 

'er  when  —  when "  he  was  embarrassed. 

"Mostly  always  sleep  with  her,"  he  ex- 
plained.—  "She  say,  'Give  me  your  veil, 
Paquita  de  mi  alma.9  Then  she  cover 
'erself  and  say  to  me,  'Come,  Gil  Perez.' 
I  say,  'Senorita,  where  you  will.'  We  go  to 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          159 

the  Car  eel  de  Corte.  Three  of  four  alguacils 
in  the  court  see  'er  come  in;  saluta  'er 
'Good  day,  senora  —  at  the  feet  of  your 
grace,'  they  say;  for  they  think,  *  'ere  comes 
a  dam  fine  woman  to  see  'er  lover.'  She 
eshiver  and  lift  'erself.  T  am  no  senora,' 
she  essay.  'Bad  girl.  Nama  Manuela. 
I  estab  Don  Bartolome  Ramonez  de  Alavia 
in  the  wood  of  La  Huerca.  You  taka  me 
-  do  what  you  like.'  Sir,  I  say,  thata 
very  fine  thing.  I  would  kissa  the  'and 
of  any  girl  who  do  that  —  same  I  kissa 
your  'and."  His  voice  broke.  "By  God, 
I  would!" 

"What    next?"    said    Manvers,    moved 
himself. 

"Sir,"  said  Gil  Perez,  "those  alguacils 
clacka  the  tongue.  'Soho,  la  Manola!' 
say  one,  and  lift  'er  veil  and  look  at  'er. 
All  those  others  come  and  look  too.  They 
say  she  dam  pretty  woman.  She  standa 
there  and  look  at  them,  lika  they  were 
dirt  down  in  the  street.  Then  I  essay 
'Senors,  you  pleasa  conduct  this  lady  to 


160          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

the  carcelero  in  two  minutes,  or  you  pay 
me,  Gil  Perez,  'er  esservant.  Thisa  lady 
'ave  friends/  I  say.  'Better  for  you,  senores 
you  fetcha  carcelero.9  They  look  at  me 
sharp  —  and  they  thinka  so  too.  Then 
the  carcelero  'e  come,  and  I  espeak  with 
'im  and  say,  'We  'ave  too  much  money. 
Do  what  you  like.5  3 

"And  what  did  he  do?"  Manvers  asked. 

"He  essay,  'Lady  come  with  me.'  So 
then  we  go  away  witha  carcelero,  and  I 
eshow  my  fingers  —  so  —  to  those  algua- 
cils  and  say,  'Dam  your  eyes,  you  fellows, 
vayan  ustedes  con  Dios!  Then  the  car- 
celero maka  bow.  'E  say  to  Manuela, 
'Senora,  you  'ave  my  littla  room.  All  by 
yourself.  My  wifa  she  maka  bed — you 
first-class  in  there.  Nothing  to  do  with 
them  dogs  down  there.  I  give  them  what- 
for  lika  shot,'  say  the  carcelero.  So  I  pay 
'im  well  with  your  bills,  sir,  and  see  Manuela 
all  the  time  every  day." 

He  took  rapid  strides  across  the  room 
—  but  stopped  abruptly  and  looked  at 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          161 

Manvers.  There  was  fire  in  his  eyes. 
"She  lika  saint,  sir.  I  catch  'er  on  'er 
knees  before  our  Lady  of  Atocha.  I  'ear 
'er  words  all  broken  to  bits.  I  see  'er 
estrike  'er  breasts  —  Oh,  God,  that  make 
me  mad!  She  say,  'Oh,  Lady,  you  with 
your  sorrow  and  your  love  —  you  know 
me  very  well.  Bad  girl,  too  unfortunate, 
too  miserable — your  daughter  all  the  sama, 
and  your  lover.  Give  me  a  great  *eart, 
lady,  that  I  may  tell  all  the  truth  —  all 

-all  —  all!  If  'e  thoughta  well  of  me,' 
she  say,  crying  like  one  o'clock,  'let  'im 
know  me  better.  No  good  'e  think  me 
fine  woman  —  no  good  'e  kissa  me ' 

-  the  delicacy  with  which  Gil  Perez 
treated  this  part  of  the  history,  which 
Manvers  had  never  told  him,  was  a  beauti- 
ful thing — "'I  wanta  tell  'im  all  my 
'istory.  Then  'e  say,  pah,  what  a  beast! 
and  serva  me  right.'  Sir,  then  she  bow 
righta  down  to  the  grounda,  she  did,  and 
covered  'er  'ead.  I  say,  'Manuela,  I  love 
you  with  alia  my  soul  —  but  you  do  well, 


162          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

my  'eart.'     And  then  she  turn  on  me  and 
tell  me  to  go  quick." 

"So  you  are  in  love  with  her,  Gil?" 
Manvers  asked  him.  Gil  admitted  it. 

"I  love  'er  the  minute  I  see  'er  at  the 
corrida.  My  'earta  go  alia  water  —  but 
I  know  'er.  I  say  to  myself,  'That  is  la 
Manuela  of  my  master  Don  Osmundo. 
You  be  careful,  Gil  Perez." 

Manvers  said,  "Look  here,  Gil,  I'm 
ashamed  of  myself.  I  kissed  her,  you 
know." 

'Yes  sir,"  said  Gil,  and  touched  his 
forehead  like  a  groom. 

"If  I  had  known  that  you  —  but  I  had 
no  idea  of  it  until  this  moment.  I  can 
only  say  - 

"Master,"  said  Gil,  "saya  nothing  at 
all.  I  love  Manuela  lika  mad  —  that  quite 
true;  but  she  thinka  me  dirt  on  the  pave- 
ment." 

"Then  she's  very  wrong,"  Manvers  said. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Gil,  "thata  true.  All 
beautiful  girls  lika  that.  I  understanda 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          163 

too  much.  But  look  'ere  —  if  she  belong 
to  me,  that  all  the  same,  because  I  belong 
to  you.  You  do  what  you  like  with  'er. 
I  say,  That  all  the  same  to  me!" 

"Gil  Perez,"  said  Manvers,  "you're 
a  gentleman,  and  I  'm  very  much  ashamed 
of  myself.  But  we  must  do  what  we  can 
for  Manuela.  I  shall  give  evidence,  of 
course.  I  think  I  can  make  the  judge 
understand." 

Gil  was  inordinately  grateful,  but  could 
not  conceal  his  nervousness.  "I  think 
the  Juez,  'e  too  much  friend  with  Don 
Luis.  I  think  'e  know  what  to  do  all  the 
time  before.  Manuela  'ave  too  mucha 
trouble.  Alia  same  she  ver*  fine  girl, 
most  beautiful,  most  unhappy.  That  do 
'er  good  if  she  cry." 

"I  don't  think  she'll  cry,"  Manvers 
said,  and  Gil  Perez  snorted. 

"She  cry!  By  God,  she  never!  She 
Espanish  girl,  too  mucha  proud,  too  mucha 
dicksure  what  she  do  with  Don  Bartolome. 
She  know  she  serve  'im  right.  Do  againa 


164          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

all  the  time.  What  do  you  think  'e  do  with 
'er  when  'e  'ave  'er  out  there  in  Pobledo 
an'  all  those  places  ?  Vaya !  I  tell  you, 
sir.  'E  want  to  live  on  'er.  'E  wanta 
make  'er  too  bad.  Then  she  run  lika 
devil.  Sir,  I  tell  you  what  she  say  to  me 
other  days.  'When  I  saw  'im  come  long- 
side  Don  Osmundo,'  she  say,  'I  look  in  'is 
face  an*  I  see  Death.  'E  grin  at  me  - 
then  I  know  why  'e  come.  'E  talk  very 
nice  —  soft,  lika  gentleman  —  then  I  know 
what  'e  want.  I  say,  'Son  of  a  dog,  never ! ' ' 

"Poor  girl,"  said  Manvers,  greatly  con- 
cerned. 

"Thata  quite  true,  sir,'*  Gil  Perez  agreed. 
:<  Very  unfortunate  fine  girl.  But  you  know 
what  we  say  in  Espain.  Make  yourself 
'oney,  we  say,  and  the  flies  willa  suck  you. 
Manuela  too  much  'oney  all  the  time.  I 
know  that,  because  she  tell  me  everything, 
to  tell  you." 

"Don't  tell  me,"  said  Manvers. 

"Bedam  if  I  do,"  said  Gil  Perez. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TRIAL  BY  QUESTION 

THE  court  was  not  full  when  Manvers 
and  his  advocate,  with  Gil  Perez 
in  attendance,  took  their  places;  but 
it  filled  up  gradually,  and  the  Judge  of  First 
Instance,  when  he  took  his  seat  upon  the 
tribunal,  faced  a  throng  not  unworthy  of  a 
bull-fight.  Bestial,  leering,  inflamed  faces, 
peering  eyes  agog  for  mischief,  all  the  nervous 
expectation  of  the  sudden,  the  bloody,  or 
terrible  were  there. 

There  was  the  same  dead  hush  when 
Manuela  was  brought  in  as  when  they  throw 
open  the  doors  of  the  toril,  and  the  throng 
holds  its  breath.  Gil  Perez  drew  his  with  a 
long  whistling  sound,  and  Manvers,  who 
could  dare  to  look  at  her,  thought  he  had 
never  seen  maidenly  dignity  more  beautifully 
shown.  She  moved  to  her  place  with  a 

165 


166          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

gentle    consciousness  of   what  was  due  to 
herself  very  touching  to  see. 

The  crowded  court  thrilled  and  murmured, 
but  she  did  not  raise  her  eyes ;  once  only  did 
she  show  her  feeling,  and  that  was  when  she 
passed  near  the  barrier  where  the  spectators 
could  have  touched  her  by  leaning  over. 
More  than  one  stretched  his  hand  out,  one 
at  least  his  walking  cane.  Then  she  took 
hold  of  her  skirt  and  held  it  back,  just  as 
a  girl  does  when  she  passes  wet  paint. 
This  little  touch,  which  made  the  young 
men  jeer  and  whisper  obscenity,  brought 
the  water  to  Manvers's  eyes.  He  heard 
Gil  Perez  draw  again  his  whistling  breath 
and  felt  him  tremble.  Directly  Manuela 
was  in  her  place,  standing,  facing  the 
assize,  Gil  Perez  looked  at  her,  and  never 
took  his  eyes  from  her  again.  She  was 
dressed  in  black,  and  her  hair  was  smooth 
over  her  ears,  knotted  neatly  on  the  nape 
of  her  neck. 

The  Judge,  a  fatigued,  monumental  per- 
son  with    a   long  face,    pointed   whiskers, 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          167 

and  the  eyes  of  a  dead  fish,  told  her  to 
stand  up.  As  she  was  already  standing, 
she  looked  at  him  with  patient  inquiry; 
but  he  took  no  notice  of  that.  Her  self- 
possession  was  indeed  remarkable.  She 
gave  her  answers  quietly,  without  hesitation, 
and  when  anything  was  asked  her  which 
offended  her,  either  ignored  it  or  told  the 
questioner  what  she  thought  of  it.  From 
the  outset  Manvers  could  see  that  the 
Judge's  business  was  to  incriminate  her 
beyond  repair.  Her  plea  of  guilty  was 
not  to  help  her.  She  was  to  be  shown 
infamous. 

The  examination  ran  thus: 

Judge:  You  are  Manuela,  daughter 
of  Incarnacion  Presa  of  Valencia,  and 
have  never  known  your  father  ?  (Manuela 
bows  her  head.)  Answer  the  Court. 

Manuela:  It  is  true. 

Judge:  It  is  said  that  your  father  was 
the  gitano  Sagruel. 

Manuela:  I  don't  know. 

Judge:   You    may    well    say    that.    Re- 


168          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

member  that  you  are  condemning  your 
mother  by  such  answers.  Your  mother 
sold  you  at  twelve  years  old  to  an  unfrocked 
priest  named  Tormes. 

Manuela:  Yes.     For  three  pesos. 

Judge:  Disgraceful  transaction!  This 
wretch  taught  you  dancing,  posturing,  and 
all  manner  of  wickedness  ? 

Manuela:  He   taught   me   to   dance. 

Judge:  How  long  were  you  in  his 
company  ? 

Manuela:  For  three  years. 

Judge:  He  took  you  from  fair  to  fair; 
you  were  a  public  dancer? 

Manuela:  That  is  true. 

Judge:  I  can  imagine  —  the  court  can 
imagine  —  your  course  of  life  during  this 
time.  This  master  of  yours,  this  Tormes, 
how  did  he  treat  you? 

Manuela:  Very  ill. 

Judge:  Be  more  explicit,  Manuela. 
In  what  way? 

Manuela:  He    beat    me.     He    hurt    me. 

Judge:  Why  so? 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          169 

Manuela:  I  cannot  tell  you  any  more 
about  him. 

Judge:  You    refuse  ? 

Manuela:  Yes. 

Judge:  The  court  places  its  inter- 
pretation upon  your  silence.  (He  looked 
painfully  round  as  if  he  regretted  the  absence 
of  the  proper  means  of  extracting  answers. 
Manvers  heard  Gil  Perez  curse  him  under 
his  breath.) 

The  Judge  made  lengthy  notes  upon 
the  margin  of  his  docket,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded. 

Judge:  The  young  gentleman,  Don 
Bartolome  Ramonez,  first  saw  you  at  the 
fair  of  Salamanca  in  1859? 

Manuela:  Yes. 

Judge:  He  saw  you  often,  and  followed 
you  to  Valladolid,  where  his  father  Don 
Luis  lived  ? 

Manuela:  Yes. 

Judge:  He  professed  his  passion  for 
you,  gave  you  presents  ? 

Manuela:  Yes. 


170          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Judge:  You  persuaded  him  to  take 
you  away  from  Tormes  ? 

Manuela:  No. 

Judge:  What  do  I  hear? 

Manuela:  I  said  no.  It  was  because 
he  said  that  he  loved  me  that  I  went  with 
him.  He  wished  to  marry  me,  he  said. 

Judge:  What!  Don  Bartolome  Ra- 
monez  marry  a  public  dancer!  Be  careful 
what  you  say  there,  Manuela. 

Manuela:  He  told  me  so,  and  I  believed 
him. 

Judge:  I  pass  on.  You  were  with  him 
until  the  April  of  this  year  —  you  were  with 
him  two  years. 

Manuela:  Yes. 

Judge:  And  then  you  found  another 
lover,  and  deserted  him  ? 

Manuela:  No.  I  ran  away  from  him 
by  myself. 

Judge:    But   you    found    another   lover. 

Manuela:  No. 

Judge:  Be  careful,  Manuela.  You  will 
trip  in  a  moment.  You  ran  away  from 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          171 

Don  Bartolome  when  you  were  at  Pob- 
ledo,  and  you  went  to  Palencia.  What  did 
you  do  there? 

Manuela:  I  cannot  answer  you. 

Judge:  You   mean    that   you   will  not. 

Manuela:  I   mean   that  I   cannot. 

Judge:  This  is  wilful  prevarication 
again.  I  have  authority  to  compel  you. 

Manuela:  You  have  none. 

Judge:  We  shall  see,  Manuela,  we 
shall  see.  You  left  Palencia  on  the  12th 
of  May  in  the  company  of  an  Englishman  ? 

Manuela:  Yes. 

Judge:  He  is  here  in  court? 

Manuela:  Yes. 

Judge:  Do  you  see  him  at  this  moment  ? 

Manuela:  Yes.  (But  she  did  not  turn 
her  head  to  look  at  Manvers  until  the 
Judge  forced  her.) 

Judge:  I  am  not  he.  I  am  not  likely 
to  have  taken  you  from  Palencia  and  your 
proceedings  there.  Look  at  the  English- 
man. (She  hesitated  for  a  little  while,  and 
then  turned  her  eyes  upon  him  with  such 


172          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

gentle  modesty  that  Manvers  felt  nearer 
to  loving  her  than  he  had  ever  done.  He 
rose  slightly  in  his  seat  and  bowed  to  her: 
she  returned  the  salute  like  a  young  queen. 
The  Judge  had  gained  nothing  by 
that.)  I  see  that  you  treat  each  other  with 
ceremony;  there  may  be  reasons  for  that. 
We  shall  soon  see.  This  gentleman  then 
took  you  away  from  Palencia  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Valladolid,  and  made  you  certain 
proposals.  What  were  they? 

Manuela:  He  proposed  that  I  should 
return  to  Palencia. 

Judge:  And  you  refused? 

Manuela:  Yes. 

Judge:  Why? 

Manuela:  I  could  not  go  back  to  Palencia. 

Judge:  Why? 

Manuela:  There  were  many  reasons. 
One  was  that  I  was  afraid  of  seeing  Esteban 
there. 

Judge:  You  mean  Don  Bartolome  Ram- 
onez  de  Alavia  ?  (She  nodded)  Answer  me. 

Manuela:  Yes,  yes. 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          173 

Judge:  You  are  impatient  because 
your  evil  deeds  are  coming  to  light.  I  am 
not  surprised;  but  you  must  command 
yourself.  There  is  more  to  come.  (Man- 
vers  who  was  furious,  asked  his  advocate 
whether  something  could  not  be  done. 
Directly  her  fear  of  Esteban  was  touched 
upon,  he  said,  the  Judge  changed  his 
tactics.  The  advocate  smiled.  "Be  pati- 
ent, sir,"  he  said.  "The  Judge  has  been 
instructed  beforehand."  'You  mean," 
said  Manvers,  "that  he  has  been  bribed." 
"I  did  not  say  so,"  the  advocate  replied.) 

The  Judge  returned  to  Palencia.  "  What 
other  reasons  had  you  ?"  was  his  next 
question  but  Manuela  was  clever  enough 
to  see  where  her  strength  lay.  "  My  fear  of 
Esteban  swallowed  all  other  reasons."  She 
saved  herself,  and  with  unconcealed  chagrin 
the  Judge  went  on  toward  the  real  point. 

Judge:  The  Englishman  then  made  you 
another  proposal  ? 

Manuela:  Yes,  sir.  He  proposed  to 
take  me  to  a  convent. 


174          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Judge:  You  refused  that? 

Manuela:  No,  sir.  I  should  have  been 
glad  to  go  to  a  convent. 

Judge:  You,  however,  accepted  his  third 
proposal,  namely,  that  you  should  be  under 
his  protection? 

Manuela:  I  was  thankful  for  his  pro- 
tection when  I  saw  Esteban  coming. 

Judge:  I  have  no  doubt  of  that.  You  had 
reason  to  fear  Don  Bartolome's  resentment  ? 

Manuela:  I  knew  that  Esteban  intended 
to  murder  me. 

Judge:  Don  Bartolome  overtook  you. 
You  were  riding  before  the  Englishman 
on  his  horse  ? 

Manuela:  Yes.  I  could  not  walk.  I 
was  ill. 

Judge:  Don  Bartolome  remained  with 
you  until  the  Englishman  ran  away? 

Manuela;  He  did  not  run  away.  Why 
should  he  ?  He  went  away  on  his  own  affairs. 

Judge:  (After  looking  at  his  papers): 
I  see.  The  Englishman  went  away  after 
the  pair  of  you  had  killed  Don  Bartolome  ? 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          175 

Manuela:  That  is  not  true.  He  went 
away  to  bathe,  and  then  I  killed  Esteban 
with  his  own  knife.  I  killed  him  because 
he  told  me  that  he  intended  to  murder  me, 
and  the  English  gentleman  who  had  been 
kind  to  me.  I  confess  it  —  I  confessed 
it  to  the  alguacils  and  the  carcelero.  You 
may  twist  what  I  say  as  you  will,  to  please 
your  friends,  but  the  truth  is  in  what 
I  say. 

Judge:  Silence.  It  is  for  you  to  answer 
the  questions  which  I  put  to  you.  You 
forget  yourself,  Manuela.  But  I  will  take 
your  confession  as  true  for  the  moment. 
Supposing  it  to  be  true,  did  you  not  stab 
Don  Bartolome  in  the  neck  in  order  that 
you  might  be  free? 

Manuela:  I  killed  him  to  defend  myself 
and  an  innocent  person.  I  have  told  you  so. 

Judge:  Why  should  Don  Bartolome  wish 
to  kill  you? 

Manuela:  He  hated  me  because  I  had 
refused  to  do  his  pleasure.  He  wished 
to  make  me  bad 


176          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Judge:  (Lifting  his  hands  and  throwing 
his  head  up)  Bad!  Was  he  not  jealous 
of  the  Englishman? 

Manuela:   I    don't   know. 

Judge:  Did  he  not  tell  you  that  the 
Englishman  was  your  lover?  Did  you 
not  say  so  to  Fray  Juan  de  la  Cruz  ? 

Manuela:  He  spoke  falsely.  It  was  not 
true.  He  may  have  believed  it. 

Judge:  We  shall  see.  Have  patience, 
Manuela.  Having  slain  your  old  lover, 
you  were  careful  to  leave  a  token  for  his 
successor.  You  left  more  than  that:  your 
crucifix  from  your  neck,  and  a  message 
with  Fray  Juan. 

Manuela:  Yes.  I  told  Fray  Juan  the 
whole  of  the  truth,  and  begged  him 
to  tell  the  gentleman,  because  I  wished 
him  to  think  well  of  me.  I  told  him  that 
Esteban  - 

Judge:  Softly,  softly,  Manuela.  Why 
did  you  leave  your  crucifix  behind  you  ? 

Manuela:  Because  I  was  grateful  to 
the  gentleman  who  had  saved  my  life  at 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          177 

Palencia;  because  I  had  nothing  else  to 
give  him.  Had  I  had  anything  more 
valuable  I  would  have  left  it.  Nobody 
had  been  kind  to  me  before. 

Judge:  You  know  what  he  has  done 
with  your  crucifix,  Manuela? 

Manuela:   I  do  not. 

Judge :  What  are  you  saying  ? 

Manuela:  The  truth. 

Judge:  I  have  the  means  of  confuting 
you.  You  told  Fray  Juan  that  you  were 
going  to  Madrid. 

Manuela :  I  did  not. 

Judge:  In  the  hope  that  he  would  tell 
the  Englishman. 

Manuela :  If  he  told  the  gentleman  that 
he  lied. 

Judge  :  It  is  then  a  singular  coincidence 
which  led  to  your  meeting  him  here  in 
Madrid  ? 

Manuela:  I  did  not  meet  him. 

Judge:  Did  you  not  meet  him  a  few 
nights  before  you  surrendered  to  justice  ? 

Manuela  :   No. 


178         THE  SPANISH  JADE 

Judge :  Did  you  meet  his  servant  ? 

Manuela:  I  cannot  tell  you. 

Judge :  Did  not  the  Englishman  pay  for 
your  lodging  in  the  Carcel  de  la  Corte  ?  Did 
he  not  send  his  servant  every  day  to  see  you  ? 

Manuela:  The  gentleman  was  lying 
wounded  at  the  hotel.  He  had  been  stabbed 
in  the  street. 

Judge :  We  are  not  discussing  the  English- 
man's private  affairs.  Answer  my  questions. 

Manuela:  I  cannot  answer  them. 

Judge:  You  mean  that  you  will  not, 
Manuela.  Did  you  not  know  that  the 
Englishman  caused  your  crucifix  to  be  set 
in  gold,  like  a  holy  relic? 

Manuela:   I  did  not  know  it. 

Judge:  We  have  it  on  your  own  con- 
fession that  you  slew  Don  Bartolome 
Ramonez  in  the  wood  of  La  Huerca,  and 
you  admit  that  the  Englishman  was  pro- 
tecting you  before  that  dreadful  deed  was 
done,  that  he  has  since  paid  for  your  treat- 
ment in  prison,  and  that  he  has  treasured 
your  crucifix  like  a  sacred  relic. 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          179 

Manuela:  You  are  pleased  to  say  these 
things.  I  don't  say  them.  You  wish  to 
incriminate  a  person  who  has  been  kind 
to  me. 

Judge:  I  will  ask  you  one  more 
question,  Manuela.  Why  did  you  give 
yourself  up  to  justice  ? 

Manuela:  (After  a  painful  pause, 
speaking  with  high  fervour  and  some 
approach  to  dramatic  effect).  I  will  answer 
you,  Senor  Juez.  It  was  because  I  knew 
that  Don  Luis  would  contrive  the  death 
of  Don  Osmundo  if  I  did  not  prove  him 
innocent. 

Judge  (Rising,  very  angry) :  Silence ! 
The  court  cannot  entertain  your  views  of 
persons  not  concerned  in  your  crime. 

Manuela:  But  —  (she  shrugged  and 
looked  away). 

Judge:  You  can  sit  down. 


CHAPTER  XV 

NEMESIS  —  DON  LUIS 

MANVERS'S  reiterated  question  of  how 
in  the  name  of  wonder  Don  Luis  or 
anybody  else  knew  what  he  had  done  with 
Manuela's  crucifix  was  answered  before 
the  day  was  over;  but  not  by  Gil  Perez  or 
the  advocate  whom  he  had  engaged  to 
defend  the  unhappy  girl. 

This  personage  gave  him  to  understand 
without  disguise  that  there  was  very  little 
chance  for  Manuela.  The  Judge,  he  said,  had 
been  "instructed."  He  clung  to  that 
phrase.  When  Manvers  said,  "Let  us  in- 
struct him  a  little,"  he  took  snuff  and  re- 
plied that  he  feared  previous  "instruction" 
might  have  created  a  prejudice.  He  under- 
took, however,  to  see  him  privately  before 
judgment  was  delivered,  but  intimated  that 
he  must  have  a  very  free  hand. 

180 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          181 

Manvers's  rejoinder  took  the  shape  of  a 
blank  cheque  with  his  signature  upon  it. 
The  advocate,  fanning  himself  with  it  in 
an  abstracted  manner,  went  on  to  advise 
the  greatest  candour  in  the  witness-box. 
"Beware  of  irritation,  dear  sir,"  he  said. 
"The  Judge  will  plant  a  banderilla  here 
and  there,  you  may  be  sure.  That  is  his 
method.  You  learn  more  from  an  angry 
man  than  a  cool  one.  For  my  own  part," 
he  .went  on,  "you  know  how  we  stand  — 
without  witnesses.  I  shall  do  what  I  can, 
you  may  be  sure." 

"I  hope  you  will  get  something  useful 
from  the  prisoner,"  Manvers  said.  "A 
little  of  Master  Esteban's  private  history 
should  be  useful." 

"It  would  be  perfectly  useless,  if  you 
will  allow  me  to  say  so,"  replied  the  advo- 
cate. "The  Judge  will  not  hear  a  word 
against  a  family  like  the  Ramonez.  So 
noble  and  so  poor!  Perhaps  you  are 
not  aware  that  the  Archbishop  of  Toledo 
is  Don  Luis's  first-cousin  ?  That  is  so." 


182          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"But  is  that  allowed  to  justify  his  rip 
of  a  son  in  goading  a  girl  on  to  murder  ?" 
cried  Manvers. 

The  advocate  again  took  snuff,  shrug- 
ging as  he  tapped  his  fingers  on  the  box. 
"The  Ramonez  say,  you  see,  sir,  that  Don 
Bartolome  may  have  threatened  her,  moved 
by  jealousy.  Jealousy  is  a  well-understood 
passion  here.  The  plea  is  valid  and  good." 

"Might  it  not  stand  for  Manuela  too?'* 
he  was  asked. 

"I  don't  think  we  had  better  advance 
it,  Don  Osmundo,"  he  said,  after  a  signifi- 
cant pause. 

Gil  Perez,  pale  and  all  on  edge,  had  been 
walking  the  room  like  a  caged  wolf.  He 
swore  to  himself  —  but  in  English,  out 
of  politeness  to  his  master.  "Thata  dam 
thief!  Ah,  Juez  of  my  soul,  if  I  see 
you  twist  in  'ell  is  good  for  me."  Presently 
he  took  Manvers  aside  and,  his  eyes  full 
of  tears,  asked  him,  "Sir,  you  escusa 
Manuela,  if  you  please.  She  maka  story 
ver'  bad  to  'ear.  She  no  like  —  I  see  'er 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          183 

red  as  fire,  burn  like  the  devil,  sir.  She 
ver'  unfortunata  girl  —  too  beautiful  to 
live.  And  all  these  'ogs — O  my  God,  what 
can  she  do  ?"  He  opened  his  arms,  and 
turned  his  pinched  face  to  the  sky.  "  What 
can  she  do,  O  my  God  ?"  he  cried.  "  So  beau- 
tiful as  a  rose,  an'  so  poor'  an'  so  a  child! 
You  sorry,  sir,  'ey  ?"  he  asked,  and  Manvers 
said  he  was  more  sorry  than  he  could  say. 

That  comforted  him.  He  kissed  his  mas- 
ter's hand,  and  then  told  him  that  Manuela 
was  glad  that  he  knew  all  about  her.  "She 
dam  glad,  sir,  that  I  know.  She  say  to 
me  las'  night  —  *  What  I  shall  tell  the 
Juez  will  be  the  very  truth.  Senor  Don 
Osmundo  shall  know  what  I  am,'  she 
say.  'To  'im  I  could  never  say  it.  To 
thata  Juez  too  easy  say  it.  To-morrow,' 
she  say,  '  'e  know  me  for  what  I  am  —  too 
bad  girl.'  " 

"I  think  she 's  a  noble  girl,"  said  Manvers. 
"She's  got  more  courage  in  her  little  finger 
than  I  have  in  my  body.  She 's  a  girl  in  a 
thousand." 


184          THE  SPANISH   JADE 

Gil  Perez  glowed,  and  lifted  up  his 
beaten  head.  "Esplendid  —  eh  ?"  he  cried 
out.  "By  God,  I  serve  Jer  on  my  knees." 

On  returning  to  the  court,  the  beard  and 
patient  face  of  Fray  Juan  greeted  our 
friend.  He  had  very  little  to  testify,  save 
that  he  was  sure  the  Englishman  had  known 
nothing  of  the  crime.  The  prisoner  had 
told  him  her  story  without  haste  or  passion. 
He  had  been  struck  by  that.  She  said 
that  she  killed  Don  Bartolome  in  a  hurry 
lest  he  should  kill  both  her  and  her  bene- 
factor. She  had  not  informed  him,  nor 
had  he  reported  to  the  gentleman,  that  she 
was  going  to  Madrid.  The  Englishman 
said  that  he  intended  to  find  her,  and 
witness  had  strongly  advised  him  against 
it.  He  had  told  him  that  his  motives  would 
be  misunderstood.  "As,  in  fact,  they  have 
been,  brother?"  the  advocate  suggested. 
Fray  Juan  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  sighed. 
"Quien  sabe?"  was  his  answer. 

Manvers  then  stood  up  and  spoke  his  testi- 
mony. He  gave  the  facts  as  the  reader 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          185 

knows  them,  and  made  it  clear  that  Manuela 
was  in  terror  of  Esteban  from  the  moment 
he  appeared,  and  even  before  he  appeared. 
He  had  noticed  that  she  frequently  glanced 
behind  them  as  they  rode,  and  had  asked 
her  the  reason.  Her  fear  of  him  in  the 
wood  was  manifest,  and  he  blamed  himself 
greatly  for  leaving  her  alone  with  the  young 
man. 

"I  was  new  to  the  country,  you 
must  understand,"  he  said.  "I  could  see 
that  there  was  some  previous  acquaintance 
between  those  two,  but  could  not  guess 
that  it  was  so  serious.  I  thought,  however, 
that  they  had  made  up  their  differences 
and  gone  off  together  when  I  returned 
from  bathing.  When  Fray  Juan  showed 
me  the  body  and  told  me  what  had  been 
done,  I  was  very  much  shocked.  It  had 
been,  in  one  sense,  my  fault,  for  if  I  had 
not  rescued  her,  Esteban  would  not  have 
suspected  me,  or  intended  my  death.  That 
I  saw  at  once;  and  my  desire  of  meeting 
Manuela  again  was  that  I  might  defend 


186          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

her  from  the  consequences  of  an  act  which 
I  had,  in  that  one  sense,  brought  about  — • 
to  which  she  had  at  any  rate  been  driven 
on  my  account." 

I"  will  ask  you,  sir,"  said  the  Judge, 
"one  question  upon  that.  Was  that  also 
your  motive  in  having  the  crucifix  set  in 
pure  gold?" 

"No,"  said  Manvers,  "not  altogether. 
I  doubt  if  I  can  explain  that  to  you." 

"I  am  of  that  opinion  myself,"  said  the 
Judge  with  an  elaborate  bow.  "But  the 
court  will  be  interested  to  hear  you." 

The  court  was. 

"This  girl,"  Manvers  said,  "was  plainly 
most  unfortunate.  She  was  ragged,  poorly 
fed,  had  been  ill-used,  and  was  being 
shamefully  handled  when  I  first  saw  her.  I 
snatched  her  out  of  the  hands  of  the  wretches 
who  would  have  torn  her  to  pieces  if  I  had 
not  interfered.  From  beginning  to  end 
I  never  saw  more  shocking  treatment  of  a 
woman  than  I  saw  at  Palencia.  Not  to 
have  interfered  would  have  shamed  me 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          187 

for  life.  What  then?  I  rescued  her,  as 
I  say,  and  she  showed  herself  grateful  in  a 
variety  of  ways.  Then  Esteban  Vincaz  came 
up  and  chose  to  treat  me  as  her  lover.  I 
believe  he  knew  better,  and  think  that  my 
horse  and  haversack  had  more  to  do  with 
it.  Well,  I  left  Manuela  with  him  in  the 
wood  —  hardly,  I  may  suggest,  the  act  of 
a  lover  —  and  never  saw  Esteban  alive 
again.  But  I  believed  Manuela's  story 
absolutely;  I  am  certain  she  would  not  lie 
at  such  a  time,  or  to  such  a  man  as  Fray 
Juan.  The  facts  were  extraordinary,  and 
her  crime,  done  as  it  was  in  defence  of 
myself,  was  heroic  —  or  I  thought  so. 
Her  leaving  of  the  crucifix  was,  to  me,  a 
proof  of  her  honest  intention.  I  valued 
the  gift,  partly  for  the  sake  of  the  giver, 
partly  for  the  act  which  it  commemorated. 
She  had  received  a  small  service  from  me, 
and  had  returned  it  fifty-fold  by  an  act 
of  desperate  courage.  To  crown  her  charity 
she  left  me  all  that  she  had  in  the  world. 
I  do  not  wonder  myself  at  what  I  did.  I 


188          THE  SPANISH   JADE 

took  the  crucifix  to  a  jeweller  at  Valladolid, 
had  it  set  as  I  thought  it  deserved  —  and 
I  see  now  that  I  did  her  there  a  cruel  wrong." 

"Permit  me  to  say,  sir,"  said  the  trium- 
phant Judge,  "that  you  also  did  Don 
Luis  Ramonez  a  great  service.  Through 
your  act,  however  intended,  he  has  been 
enabled  to  bring  a  criminal  to  justice." 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  Manvers,  "she 
brought  herself  to  justice  —  so  soon  as 
Don  Luis  Ramonez  sent  his  assassin  out 
to  stab  me  in  the  back,  and  in  the  dark. 
And  this  again  was  a  proof  of  her  heroism, 
since  she  thought  by  these  means  to  satisfy 
his  craving  for  human  blood." 

Manvers  spoke  incisively  and  with  sever- 
ity. The  court  thrilled,  and  the  murmuring 
was  on  his  side.  The  Judge  was  much 
disturbed.  Manuela  alone  maintained  her 
calm,  sitting  like  a  pensive  Hebe,  her 
cheek  upon  her  hand. 

The  Judge's  annoyance  was  extreme.  It 
tempted  him  to  wrangle. 

"I    beg    you,    sir,    to    restrain    yourself. 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          189 

The  court  cannot  listen  to  extraneous 
matter.  It  is  concerned  with  the  considera- 
tion of  a  serious  crime.  The  illustrious 
gentleman  of  your  reference  mourns  the 
loss  of  his  only  son." 

"I  fail,"  said  Manvers,  "to  see  how 
my  violent  death  can  assuage  his  grief." 
The  Judge  was  not  the  only  person  in 
court  to  raise  his  eyebrows;  if  Manvers 
had  not  been  angry  he  would  have  seen 
the  whole  assembly  in  the  same  act,  and 
been  certified  that  they  were  not  with  him 
now.  His  advocate  whispered  him  urgently 
to  sit  down.  He  did,  still  mystified.  The 
Judge  immediately  retired  to  consider  his 
judgment. 

M  anvers's  advocate  left  the  court  and  was 
away  for  an  hour.  He  returned  very 
sedately  to  his  place,  with  the  plainly 
expressed  intention  of  saying  nothing.  The 
court  buzzed  with  talk,  much  of  it  directed  at 
the  beautiful  prisoner,  whose  person,  bear- 
ing, motives,  and  fate  were  freely  dis- 
cussed. Oddly  enough,  at  that  moment 


190          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

half  the  men  in  the  hall  were  ready  to 
protect  her. 

Manvers  felt  his  heart  beating,  but  could 
neither  think  nor  speak  coherently.  If 
Manuela  were  to  be  condemned  to  death, 
what  was  he  to  do?  He  knew  not  at  all 
—  but  the  crisis  to  which  his  own  affairs 
and  his  own  life  were  now  brought  turned 
him  cold.  He  dared  not  look  at  Gil 
Perez.  The  minutes  dragged  on. 

The  Judge  entered  the  court  and 
sat  in  his  chair.  He  looked  very  much 
like  a  codfish  —  with  his  gaping  mouth 
and  foolish  eyes.  He  pulled  one  of  his 
long  whiskers  and  inspected  the  end  of  it; 
detected  a  split  hair,  separated  it  from 
its  happier  fellows,  shut  his  eyes,  gave  a 
vicious  wrench  to  it  and  gasped  as  it 
parted.  Then  he  stared  at  the  assembly 
before  him,  as  if  to  catch  them  laughing, 
frowned  at  Manvers  who  sat  before  him 
with  folded  arms;  lastly  he  turned  to  the 
prisoner,  who  stood  up  and  looked  him 
in  the  face. 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          191 

"Manuela,"  he  said,  "you  stand  con- 
demned upon  your  own  confession  of 
murder  in  the  first  degree  —  murder  of  a 
gentleman  who  had  been  your  benefactor, 
of  whose  life  and  protection  you  desired, 
for  reasons  of  your  own,  to  be  ridded. 
The  court  is  clear  that  you  are  guilty  and 
cannot  give  you  any  assurance  that  your 
surrender  to  justice  has  assisted  the  minis- 
ters of  justice.  Those  diligent  guardians 
would  have  found  you  sooner  or  later, 
you  may  be  sure.  If  any  one  is  to  be 
thanked  it  is  perhaps  the  foreign  gentleman, 
whose  candour" — and  here  he  had  the 
assurance  to  make  Manvers  a  bow  — 
"  whose  candour,  I  say,  has  favourably 
impressed  the  court.  But,  nevertheless, 
the  court,  in  its  clemency,  is  willing  to 
allow  you  the  merits  of  your  intention. 
It  is  true  that  justice  would  have  been 
done  without  your  confession;  but  it  may 
be  allowed  that  you  desired  to  stand  well 
with  the  laws,  after  having  violated  them 
in  an  outrageous  manner.  It  is  this  desire 


192          THE   SPANISH  JADE 

of  yours  which  inclines  the  court  to  mercy. 
I  shall  not  inflict  the  last  penalty  upon 
you,  nor  exact  the  uttermost  farthing  which 
your  crime  deserves.  The  court  is  willing 
to  believe  that  you  are  penitent,  and  con- 
demns you  to  perpetual  seclusion  in  the 
Institution  of  the  Recogidas  de  Santa 
Maria  Magdalena." 

Manuela  was  seen  to  close  her  eyes;  but 
she  collected  herself  directly.  She  looked 
once,  piercingly,  at  Manvers,  then  sur- 
rendered herself  to  him  who  touched  her 
on  the  shoulder,  turned  and  went  out  of 
the  court. 

Everybody  was  against  her  now;  they 
jeered,  howled,  hissed,  and  cursed  her.  A 
spoiled  plaything  had  got  its  deserts. 
Manvers  turned  upon  them  in  a  white 
fury.  "Dogs,"  he  cried,  "will  nothing 
shame  you!"  but  nobody  seemed  to  hear 
or  heed  him  at  the  moment,  and  Gil 
Perez  whispered  in  his  ear,  "That  no  good, 
master.  This  canalla  all  the  same  swine. 
You  come  with  me,  sir,  I  tell  you  dam 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          193 

good  thing."  He  had  recovered  his  old 
jauntiness,  and  swaggered  before  his  master, 
clearing  the  way  with  oaths  and  threat- 
enings. 

Manvers  followed  him  in  a  very  stern 
mood.  By  the  door  he  felt  a  touch  on  the 
arm,  and,  turning,  saw  a  tall  elderly  gentle- 
man cloaked  in  black.  He  recognised 
him  at  once  by  his  hollow  eye-sockets  and 
smouldering,  deeply  set  eyes.  'You  will 
remember  me,  senor  caballero,  in  the 
shop  of  Sebastian  the  goldsmith,"  he 
said;  and  Manvers  admitted  it.  He  re- 
ceived another  bow,  and  the  reminder. 
"We  met  again,  I  think,  in  the  Church  of 
Las  Angustias  in  Valladolid." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Manvers  said,  "I  remem- 
ber you  very  well." 

"Then  you  remember,  no  doubt,  saying 
to  me  with  regard  to  your  crucifix,  which 
I  had  seen  in  Sebastian's  hands,  then  in 
your  own,  that  it  was  a  piece  of  extrava- 
gance on  your  part.  You  will  not  withdraw 
that  statement  to-day,  I  suppose." 


194          THE  SPANISH   JADE 

That  which  lay  latent  in  his  words  was 
betrayed  by  the  gleam  of  cold  fire  in  his 
eyes.  Manvers  coloured.  'You  have 
this  advantage  of  me,  seiior,"  he  said, 
"that  you  know  to  whom  you  are  speaking, 
and  I  do  not." 

"It  is  very  true,  senor  Don  Osmundo," 
the  gentleman  said  severely.  "I  will  en- 
lighten you.  I  am  Don  Luis  Ramonez 
de  Alavia,  at  your  service." 

Manvers  turned  white.  He  had  indeed 
made  Manuela  pay  double.  So  much  for 
sentiment  in  Spain. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    HERALD 

A    CARD  of  ample  size  and  flourished 
characters,  bearing  the  name   of  El 
Marques    de    Fuenterrabia,    was    brought 
up  by  Gil  Perez. 

" Who  is  he?"  Manvers  inquired;  and 
Gil  waved  his  hand. 

'This    olda   gentleman,"   he   explained, 

'e  come  Embassador  from  Don  Luis. 
'E  say,  'What  you  do  next,  senor  Don  Os- 
mundo  ?'  You  tell  'im,  sir — is  my  advice." 

"But  I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to 
do,"  said  Manvers  irritably.  "How  thtr 
deuce  should  I  know?" 

"You  tell  'im  that,  sir,"  Gil  said  softly. 
"Thata  best  of  all." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean,  sir,  then  'e  tell  you  what  DOP 
Luis,  'e  do." 

195 


196          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"Show  him  in,"  said  Manvers. 

The  Marques  de  Fuenterrabia  was  a 
white-whiskered,  irascible  personage,  of 
stately  manners  and  slight  stature.  He 
wore  a  blue  frock-coat  and  nankeen  trousers 
over  riding-boots.  His  face  was  one  uni- 
form pink,  his  eyes  small,  fierce,  and  blue. 
They  appeared  to  emit  heat  as  well  as 
light;  for  it  was  a  frequent  trick  of  their 
proprietor's  to  snatch  at  his  spectacles 
and  wipe  the  mist  from  them  with  a  bandana 
handkerchief.  Unglazed,  his  eyes  showed 
a  blank  and  indiscriminate  ferocity  which 
Manvers  found  exceedingly  comical. 

They  bowed  to  each  other  —  the  Mar- 
ques with  ceremonious  cordiality,  Manvers 
with  the  stiffness  of  an  Englishman  to  an 
unknown  visitor.  Gil  Perez  hovered  in  the 
background,  as  it  were,  on  the  tips  of  his  toes. 

The  Marques,  having  made  his  bow, 
said  nothing.  His  whole  attitude  seemed 
to  imply,  "Well,  what  next?" 

Manvers  said  that  he  was  at  his  service; 
and  then  the  Marques  explained  himself. 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          197 

"My  friend,  Don  Luis  Ramonez  de 
Alavia,"  he  said,  "has  entrusted  me  with 
his  confidence.  It  appears  that  a  series 
of  occurrences,  involving  his  happiness, 
honour,  and  dignity  at  once,  can  be  traced 
to  your  Excellency's  intromission  in  his 
affairs.  I  take  it  that  your  Excellency 
does  not  deny " 

"Pardon  me,"  Manvers,  said  "I  deny 
it  absolutely." 

The  Marques  was  very  much  annoyed. 
"Que!  Que!'9  he  muttered  and  snatched 
off  his  spectacles.  Glaring  ferociously 
at  them,  he  wiped  them  with  his  ban- 
dana. 

"If  Don  Luis  really  imagines  that  I 
compassed  the  death  of  his  son,"  said 
Manvers,  "I  suppose  he  has  legal  remedy. 
He  had  better  have  me  arrested  and  have 
done  with  it." 

The  Marques,  his  spectacles  on,  gazed 
at  the  speaker  with  astonishment.  "Is 
it  possible,  sir,  that  you  can  so  misconceive 
the  mind  of  a  gentleman  as  to  suggest  legal 


198          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

process  in  an  affair  of  the  kind?  What- 
ever my  friend  Don  Luis  may  consider 
you,  he  could  not  be  guilty  of  such  a  dis- 
courtesy. One  may  think  he  is  going  too 
far  in  the  other  direction,  indeed  —  though 
one  is  debarred  from  saying  so  under  the 
circumstances.  But  I  am  not  here  to 
bandy  words  with  you.  My  friend  Don 
Luis  commissions  me  to  ask  your  Excel- 
lency for  the  name  of  a  friend,  to  whom 
the  arrangements  may  be  referred  for 
ending  a  painful  controversy  in  the  usual 
manner.  If  you  will  be  so  good  as  to 
oblige  me,  I  need  not  intrude  upon  you 
again." 

"Do  you  mean  to  suggest,  sefior  Mar- 
ques," said  Manvers,  after  a  pause,  "that 
I  am  to  meet  Don  Luis  on  the  field?" 

"Pardon?"  said  the  Marques,  in  such 
a  way  as  to  answer  the  question. 

"My  dear  sir,"  he  was  assured,  "I 
would  just  as  soon  fight  my  grandfather. 
The  thing  is  preposterous."  The  Marques 
gasped  for  air,  but  Manvers  continued. 


THE  SPANISH   JADE          199 

"Had  your  friend's  age  been  anywhere 
near  my  own,  I  doubt  if  I  could  have 
gratified  him  after  what  took  place  the 
other  day.  He  caused  a  man  of  his  to  stab 
me  in  the  back  as  I  was  walking  down  a 
dark  street.  In  my  country  we  call  that 
a  dastard's  act.'*  The  Marques  started, 
and  winced  as  if  he  was  hurt;  but  he  re- 
membered himself  and  the  laws  of  war- 
fare, and  when  he  spoke  it  was  within  the 
extremes  of  politeness. 

"I  confess,  sir,"  he  said,  "that  I  was 
not  perpared  for  your  refusal.  It  puts 
me  in  a  delicate  position,  and  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  I  must  involve  my  friend  also. 
It  is  my  duty  to  declare  to  you  that  it 
is  Don  Luis's  intention  to  break  the  laws 
of  Spain.  An  outrage  has  been  committed 
against  his  house  and  blood  which  one 
thing  only  can  efface.  Moved  by  ex- 
treme courtesy,  Don  Luis  was  prepared 
to  take  the  remedy  of  gentlemen ;  but,  since 
you  have  refused  him  that,  he  is  driven  to 
the  use  of  natural  law.  It  will  be  in  your 


200          THE  SPANISH   JADE 

power  —  I  cannot  deny  —  to  deprive  him 
of  that  also;  but  he  is  persuaded  that  you 
will  not  take  advantage  of  it.  Should  you 
show  any  signs  of  doing  so,  I  am  to  say, 
Don  Luis  will  be  forced  to  consider  you 
outside  the  pale  of  civilisation,  and  to 
treat  you  without  any  kind  of  toleration. 
To  suggest  such  a  possibility  is  painful  to 
me,  and  I  beg  your  pardon  very  truly 
for  it."  In  truth  the  Marques  looked 
ashamed  of  himself. 

Manvers  considered  the  very  oblique 
oration  to  which  he  had  listened.  "I 
hope  I  understand  you,  senor  Marques," 
he  said.  'You  intend  to  say  that  Don 
Luis  means  to  have  my  life  by  all  means  ?" 

The  Marques  bowed.  "That  is  so,  senor 
Don  Osmundo." 

"But  you  suggest  that  it  is  possible  that  I 
might  stop  him  by  informing  the  authorities  ?" 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Marques  hastily,  "I 
did  not  suggest  that.  The  authorities 
would  never  interfere.  The  British  Em- 
bassy might  perhaps  be  persuaded  —  but 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          201 

you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  admit  that  I 
apologise  for  the  suggestion." 

"Oh,  by  all  means,"  said  Manvers. 
"You  thought  pretty  badly  of  me  —  but 
not  so  badly  as  all  that." 

"Quite  so,"  said  the  Marques;  and  then 
the  surprising  Gil  Perez  descended  from 
mid-air,  and  bowed  to  the  stranger. 

"My  master,  Don  Osmundo,  sefior  Mar- 
ques, is  incapable  of  such  conduct,"  said 
he  —  and  looked  to  Manvers  for  approval. 

He  struggled  with  himself,  but  failed. 
His  guffaw  must  out,  and  exploded  with 
violent  effect.  It  drove  the  Marques  back 
to  the  door  and  sent  Gil  Perez  scudding 
on  tiptoe  to  the  window. 

'You  are  magnificent,  all  of  you!"  cried 
Manvers.  'You  flatter  me  into  conni- 
vance. Let  me  state  the  case  exactly. 
Don  Luis  is  to  stab  or  shoot  me  at  sight, 
and  I  am  to  give  him  a  free  hand.  Is 
that  what  you  mean  ?  Admirable.  But 
let  me  ask  you  one  question.  Am  I  not 
supposed  to  protect  myself?" 


202          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

The  Marques  stared.  "I  don't  think 
I  perfectly  understand  you,  Don  Osmundo. 
Reprisals  are  naturally  open  to  you.  We 
declare  war,  that  is  all." 

"Oh,"  said  Manvers.  'You  declare 
war?  Then  I  may  go  shooting  too?" 

"Naturally,"  said  the  Marques.  "That 
is  understood." 

"No  dam  fear  about  that,"  said  Gil 
Perez  to  his  master. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

LA   RECOGIDA 

SISTER  CHUCHA,  the  nun  who  took 
first  charge  of  newcomers  to  the 
Penitentiary,  was  fat  and  kindly,  and  not 
very  discreet.  It  was  her  business  to 
measure  Manuela  for  a  garb  and  to  see 
to  the  cutting  of  her  hair.  She  told  the 
girl  that  she  was  by  far  the  most  handsome 
penitent  she  had  ever  had  under  her  hands. 
"It  is  a  thousand  pities  to  cut  all  this 
beauty  away,"  she  said;  "for  it  is  obvious 
you  will  want  it  before  long.  So  far  as 
that  goes  you  will  find  the  cap  not  unbe- 
coming; and  I  '11  see  to  it  that  you  have  a 
piece  of  looking-glass  —  though,  by  ordi- 
nary, that  is  forbidden.  Good  gracious, 
child,  what  a  figure  you  have!  If  I  had 
one  quarter  of  your  good  fortune  I  should 
never  have  been  religious." 

203 


-204          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

She  went  on  to  describe  the  rules  of 
the  institution,  the  hours  and  nature  of  the 
work,  the  offices  in  Chapel,  the  recreation 
times  and  hours  for  meals.  Manuela,  she 
said,  was  not  the  build  for  rope  and  mat 
work. 

"I  shall  get  Reverend  Mother  to  put  you 
to  housework,  I  think,"  she  said.  "That 
will  give  you  exercise,  and  the  chance  of 
an  occasional  peep  at  the  window.  You 
don't  deserve  it,  I  fancy;  but  you  are  so 
handsome  that  I  have  a  weakness  for  you. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  speak  fairly  to 
Father  Vicente  and  curtsey  to  the  Reverend 
Mother  whenever  you  see  her.  Above 
all,  no  tantrums.  Leave  the  others  alone, 
,and  they  '11  let  you  alone.  There 's  not 
one  of  them  but  has  her  scheme  for  getting 
away,  or  her  friend  outside.  That 's  occu- 
pation enough  for  her.  It  will  be  the  same 
with  you.  Your  friends  will  find  you  out. 
You  '11  have  a  novio  spending  the  night  in 
the  street  before  to-morrow's  over,  unless 
I  'm  very  much  mistaken."  She  patted 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          205 

her  cheek.  "I  '11  do  what  I  can  for  you, 
my  dear." 

Manuela  curtseyed,  and  thanked  the 
good  nun.  "All  I  have  to  do,"  she  said, 
"is  to  repent  of  my  sin  —  which  has  become 
very  horrible  to  me,." 

"  La-la-la ! "  cried  Sister  Chucha.  "  Keep 
that  for  Father  Vicente,  if  you  please,  my 
dear.  That  is  his  affair.  Our  patroness 
led  a  jolly  life  before  she  was  a  saint. 
No  doubt,  you  should  not  have  stabbed 
Don  Bartolome,  and  of  course  the  Ram- 
onez  would  never  overlook  such  a  thing. 
But  we  all  understand  that  you  must 
save  your  own  skin  if  you  could  —  that 's 
very  reasonable.  And  I  hear  that  there 
was  another  reason."  Here  she  chucked 
her  chin.  "I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  she 
said  with  a  meaning  smile. 

The  girl  coloured  and  hung  her  head. 
She  was  still  quivering  with  the  shame 
of  her  public  torture.  She  could  still  see 
Manvers's  eyes  stare  chilly  at  the  wall 
before  them,  and  believe  them  to  grow 


206          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

colder  with  each  stave  of  her  admissions. 
Her  one  consolation  lay  in  the  thought 
that  she  could  please  him  by  amendment 
and  save  him  by  conviction;  so  it  was 
hard  to  be  petted  by  Sister  Chucha.  She 
would  have  welcomed  the  whip,  would 
have  hugged  it  to  her  bosom  - —  the  rod  of 
Salvation,  she  would  have  called  it;  but 
compliments  on  her  beauty,  caresses  of 
cheek  and  chin  —  was  she  not  to  be  allowed 
to  be  good?  As  for  escape,  she  had  no 
desire  for  that.  She  could  love  her  Don 
Osmundo  best  from  a  distance.  What 
was  to  be  gained,  but  shame,  by  seeing 
him? 

Her  shining  hair  was  cut  off;  the  cap,  the 
straight  prison  garb  were  put  on.  She 
stood  up,  slim-necked,  an  arrowy  maid 
with  her  burning  face  and  sea-green  eyes 
chastened  by  real  humility.  She  made 
a  good  confession  to  Father  Vincente, 
and  took  her  place  among  her  mates. 

It  was  true,  what  Sister  Chucha  had 
told  her.  Every  penitent  in  that  great 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          207 

and  gaunt  building  was  thrilled  with  one 
persistent  hope,  worked  patiently  with  that 
in  view,  and  under  its  spell  refrained  from 
violence  or  clamour.  There  was  not  one 
face  of  those  files  of  gray-gowned  girls 
which,  at  stated  hours,  entered  the  chapel, 
knelt  at  the  altar,  or  stooped  at  painful 
labour  through  the  stifling  days,  which  did 
not  show  a  gleam.  Stupid,  vacant,  vicious, 
morose,  pretty,  sparkling,  whatever  the  face 
might  be,  there  was  that  expectation  to 
redeem  or  enhance  it,  to  make  it  human, 
to  make  it  womanish.  There  was,  or  there 
would  be,  some  day,  any  day,  a  lover  outside 
— to  whom  it  would  be  the  face  of  all  faces. 

Manuela  had  not  been  two  hours  in  the 
company  of  her  fellow-prisoners  before 
she  was  told  that  there  were  two  ways  of 
escape  from  the  Recogidas.  Religion  or 
marriage  these  were;  but  the  religious 
alternative  was  not  discussed. 

Sister  Chucha,  it  transpired,  had  chosen 
that  way — "But  do  you  wonder?"  cried  the 
girl  who  told  Manuela,  with  shrill  scorn — 


208          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

most  of  the  sisters  had  once  been  penitents 

"Vaya!  Look  at  them,  my  dear!"  cried 
this  young  Amazon,  conscious  of  her  own 
charms. 

She  was  a  plump  Andalusian,  black- 
eyed,  merry,  and  quick  to  change  her 
moods.  Love  had  sent  her  to  Saint 
Mary  Magdalene,  and  love  would  take 
her  out  again. 

That  Chucha,  she  owned,  was  a  kind 
soul.  She  always  put  pretty  ones  to  house- 
work -  "it  gives  us  a  chance  at  the 
windows.  I  have  Fernando  who  works 
at  the  sand-carting  in  the  river.  He 
never  fails  to  look  up  this  way.  Some 
day  he  will  ask  for  me."  She  peered  at 
herself  in  a  pail  of  water,  and  fingered  her 
cap  daintily.  "How  does  my  skirt  hang 
now,  Manuela?  Too  short,  I  fancy.  Did 
you  ever  see  such  shoes  as  they  give  you 
here!  Lucky  that  nobody  can  see  you." 

This  was  the  strain  of  everybody's  talk 
in  the  house  of  Las  Recogidas  —  in  the 
whitewashed  galleries  where  they  walked 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          209 

in  squads  under  the  eye  of  a  nun  who  sat 
reading  a  good  book  against  the  wall,  in 
the  court,  where  they  lay  in  the  shade  to 
rest,  prone  with  their  faces  hidden  in  their 
arms,  or  with  knees  huddled  up  and  eyes 
fixed  hi  a  stare.  They  talked  to  each 
other  in  the  hoarse,  tearful  staccato  of 
Spain,  which,  beginning  low,  seems  to 
gather  force  and  volume  as  it  runs  until, 
like  a  beck  in  flood,  it  carries  speaker  and 
listener  over  the  bar  into  tossing  waves  of 
yeasty  water. 

Manuela,  through  all,  kept  her  thoughts 
to  herself,  and  spoke  nothing  of  her  own 
affairs.  There  may  have  been  others  like 
her,  fixed  to  the  great  achievement  of 
justifying  themselves  to  their  own  stan- 
dard: she  had  no  means  of  knowing. 
Her  standard  was  this,  that  she  had  purged 
herself  by  open  confession  to  the  man 
whom  she  loved.  She  was  clean,  sweet- 
ened, and  full  of  heart.  All  she  had  to  do 
was  to  open  wide  her  house  that  holiness 
might  enter  in. 


210          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Besides  this  she  had,  at  the  moment, 
the  consciousness  of  a  good  action;  for 
she  firmly  believed  that  by  her  surrender 
to  the  law  she  had  again  saved  Manvers 
from  assassination.  If  Don  Luis  could 
only  cleanse  his  honour  by  blood,  he 
now  had  her  heart's  blood.  That  should 
suffice  him.  She  grew  happier  as  the 
days  went  on. 

Meanwhile  it  was  remarked  upon  by 
Mercedes  and  Dolores  and  a  half  dozen 
more  that  distinguished  strangers  came  to 
the  gallery  of  the  chapel.  The  outlines  of 
them  could  be  described  through  the  grille; 
for  behind  the  grille  was  a  great  white 
window  which  threw  them  into  high 
relief. 

It  was  the  fixed  opinion  of  Mercedes 
and  Dolores  that  Manuela  had  a  n^vio. 


CHAPTER 

THE   NOVIO 

IT  IS  true  that  Manvers  had  gone 
to  the  Chapel  of  the  Recogidas  to 
look  for,  or  to  look  at,  Manuela.  This 
formed  the  one  amusing  episode  in  his 
week's  round  in  Madrid,  where  otherwise 
he  was  extremely  bored,  and  where  he 
only  remained  to  give  Don  Luis  a  chance 
of  waging  his  war. 

To  be  shot  at  in  the  street,  or  stabbed 
in  the  back  as  you  are  homing  through 
the  dusk  are,  to  be  sure,  not  everybody's 
amusements,  and  in  an  ordinary  way 
they  were  not  those  of  Mr.  Manvers.  But 
he  found  that  his  life  gained  a  zest 
by  being  threatened  with  deprivation,  and 
so  long  as  that  zest  lasted  he  was  willing 
to  oblige  Don  Luis.  The  weather  was 
insufferably  hot,  one  could  only  be  abroad 
211 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


early  in  the  morning  or  late  at  night  —  • 
both  the  perfection  of  seasons  for  the 
assassin's  game. 

Yet  nothing  very  serious  had  occurred 
during  the  week  following  the  declaration 
of  war.  Gil  Perez  could  not  find  Tormillo, 
and  had  to  declare  his  suspicions  of  a 
Manchegan  teamster,  who  had  jostled  his 
master  in  the  Puerta  del  Sol  and  made  as  if 
to  draw  his  knife,  were  without  foundation. 
What  satisfied  him  was  that  the  Manchegan, 
that  same  evening,  stabbed  somebody  else 
to  death.  "That  show  'e  is  good  fellow 
—  too  much  after  'is  enemy,"  said  Gil 
Perez  affably.  So  Manvers  felt  justified 
in  his  refusal  to  wear  mail  or  carry  either 
revolver  or  sword-stick  ;  and  by  the  end  of  the 
week  he  forgot  that  he  was  a  marked  man. 

On  Sunday  he  told  Gil  Perez  that  he 
intended  to  visit  the  Chapel  of  the  Recogi- 
das.  The  rogue's  face  twinkled.  "Good, 
sir,  good.  We  go.  I  show  you  Manuela 
all-holy  like  a  nun.  I  know  whata  she 
do.  Look  for  'eaven  all  day.  That 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          213 

Chucha  she  tell  me  something  —  and  the 
portero,  'e  damgood  fellow." 

Resplendent  in  white  duck  trousers,  Mr. 
Manvers  was  remarked  upon  by  a  purely 
native  company  of  sightseers.  Quick- 
eyed  ladies  in  mantillas  were  there,  making 
play  with  their  fans  and  scent-bottles; 
attendant  cavaliers  found  something  of 
which  to  whisper  in  the  cool-faced  English- 
man with  his  fair  beard,  blue  eyes  and 
eye-glass,  his  air  of  detachment,  which 
disguised  his  real  feelings,  and  of  readiness 
to  be  entertained,  which  they  misinter- 
preted. 

The  facts  were  that  he  was  painfully 
involved  in  Manuel  a' s  fate,  and  uncom- 
fortably near  being  in  love  again  with  the 
lovely  unfortunate.  She  was  no  longer  a 
pretty  thing  to  be  kissed,  no  longer  even 
a  handsome  murderess;  she  was  become  a 
heroine,  a  martyr,  a  thing  enskied  and 
sainted. 

He  had  seen  more    than   he    had   been 


214          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

meant  to  see  during  his  ordeal  in  the 
Audiencia  —  her  consciousness  of  him- 
self, for  instance,  as  revealed  in  that  last 
dying  look  she  had  given  him,  that  long 
look  before  she  turned  and  followed  her 
jailers  out  of  court.  He  guessed  at  her 
agonies  of  shame,  he  understood  how 
it  was  that  she  had  courted  it;  in  fine,  he 
knew  very  well  that  her  heart  was  in  his 
keeping  —  and  that 's  a  dangerous  posses- 
sion for  a  man  already  none  too  sure  of 
the  whereabouts  of  his  own. 

When  the  organ  music  thrilled  and 
opened,  and  the  Recogidas  filed  in  —  some 
hundred  of  them  —  his  heart  for  a  moment 
stood  still,  as  he  scanned  them  through  the 
gloom.  They  were  dressed  exactly  alike  in 
dull  clinging  gray,  all  wore  close-fitting  white 
caps,  were  nearly  all  dead-white  in  the 
face.  They  all  shuffled,  as  convicts  do 
as  they  move  close  —  ordered  to  their 
work  afield. 

It  shocked  him  that  he  utterly  failed 
to  identify  Manuela  —  and  it  brought  him 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  215 

sharply  to  his  better  senses  that  Gil  Perez 
saw  her  at  once. 

"See  her  there,  master,  see  there  my 
beautiful,"  the  man  groaned  under  his 
breath,  and  Manvers  looked  where  he 
pointed,  and  saw  her;  but  now  the  glamour 
was  gone.  Gil  was  her  declared  lover.  The 
Squire  of  Somerset  could  not  stoop  to  be 
his  valet's  rival. 

The  Squire  of  Somerset,  however,  observed 
that  she  held  herself  more  stiffly  than  her 
co-mates,  and  shuffled  less.  The  prison 
garb  clothed  her  like  a  weed;  she  had  the 
trick  of  wearing  clothes  so  that  they  draped 
the  figure,  not  concealed  it,  were  as  wrax 
upon  it,  not  a  cerement.  That  which 
fell  shapeless  and  heavily  from  the  shoulders 
of  the  others,  upon  her  seemed  to  grow 
rather  from  the  waist  —  to  creep  upward 
over  the  shoulders,  as  ivy  steals  clinging 
over  a  statue  in  a  park.  Here,  said  he, 
is  a  maiden  that  cannot  be  hid.  Call 
her  a  murderess,  she  remains  perfect  woman; 
call  her  convict,  Magdalen,  she  is  some 


216          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

man's  solace.  He  looked  at  Gil  Perez, 
motionless  and  intent  by  his  side,  and 
heard  his  short  breath.  There  is  her  mate, 
he  thought  to  himself,  and  was  saved. 

They  filed  out  as  they  had  come  in. 
They  all  stood,  turned  toward  the  exit,  and 
waited  until  they  were  directed  to  move. 
Then  they  followed  each  other  like  sheep 
through  a  gateway,  looking,  so  far  as  he 
could  see,  at  nothing,  expecting  nothing 
and  remembering  nothing.  A  down-trod- 
den herd,  he  conceived  them,  their  wits 
dulled  by  toil.  He  was  not  near  enough 
to  see  the  gleam  which  kept  them  alive. 
Nuns  gave  them  their  orders  with  authori- 
tative hands,  quick  always,  and  callous 
by  routine,  probably  not  intended  to  be 
so  harsh  as  they  appeared.  He  saw  one 
girl  pushed  forward  by  the  shoulder  with 
such  suddenness  that  she  nearly  fell;  another 
flinched  at  a  passionate  command,  another 
scowled  as  she  passed  her  mistress.  He 
watched  to  see  how  Manuela,  who  had 
come  in  one  of  the  first  and  must  go  out 


THE   SPANISH  JADE          217 

one  of  the  last,  would  bear  herself,  and 
was  relieved  by  a  pretty  and  enheartening 
episode. 

Manuela,  as  she  passed,  drew  her  hand 
along  the  top  of  the  bench  with  a  lingering, 
trailing  touch.  It  encountered  that  of  the 
nun  in  command,  and  he  saw  the  nun's 
hand  enclose  and  press  the  penitent's.  He  saw 
Manuela's  look  of  gratitude,  and  the  nun's 
smiling  affection;  he  believed  that  Manuela 
blushed.  That  gratified  him  extremely,  and 
enlarged  his  benevolent  intention. 

Had  Gil  Perez  seen  it?  He  thought 
not.  Gil  Perez's  black  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Manuela's  form.  They  glittered  like 
a  cat's  when  he  watches  a  bird  in  a 
shrubbery.  The  valet  was  quite  unlike 
himself  as  he  followed  his  master  home- 
ward and  asked  leave  of  absence  for 
the  evening  —  for  the  first  time  in  his 
period  of  service.  Manvers  had  no  doubt 
at  all  how  that  evening  was  spent  —  in 
rapt  attention  below  the  barred  windows  of 
the  House  of  the  Recogidas. 


218          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

That  was  so.  Gil  Perez  "played  the 
bear/*  as  they  call  it,  from  dusk  till  the 
small  hours  —  perfectly  happy,  in  a  rapture 
of  adoration  which  the  Squire  of  Somerset 
could  never  have  realised.  All  the  romance 
which,  if  we  may  believe  Cervantes,  once 
transfigured  the  life  of  Spain,  and  gilded 
the  commonest  acts  till  they  seemed  confi- 
dent appeals  for  the  applause  of  God, 
feats  boldly  done  under  heaven's  thronged 
barriers,  is  nowadays  concentred  in  this 
one  strange  vigil  which  all  lovers  have  to 
keep. 

Gil  Perez  the  quick,  the  admirable  ser- 
vant, the  jaunty  adventurer,  the  assured 
rogue,  had  vanished.  Here  he  -stood  be- 
neath the  stars,  breathing  prayers  and 
praises  —  a  little  valet  sighing  for  a  con- 
victed Magdalen,  a  young  knight  keeping 
watch  beneath  his  lady's  tower.  And  he 
was  not  alone  there:  at  due  intervals  along 
the  frowning  walls  were  posted  other 
servants  of  the  sleeping  girls  behind  them; 
other  knights  at  watch  and  ward. 


THE   SPANISH   JADE  219 

The  prayer  he  breathed  was  the  prayer 
breathed  too  for  Dolores  or  Mercedes  in 
prison.  "Virgin  of  Atocha,  Virgin  of  the 
Pillar,  Virgin  of  Sorrow,  of  Divine  Com- 
passion, send  happy  sleep  to  thy  handmaid 
Manuela,  shed  the  dew  of  thy  love  upon 
her  eyelids,  keep  smooth  her  brows,  keep 
innocent  her  lips.  Dignify  me,  thy  ser- 
vant, Gil  Perez,  more  than  other  men,  that 
I  may  be  worthy  to  sustain  this  high  honour 
of  love." 

His  eyes  never  wavered  from  a  certain 
upper  window.  It  was  as  blank  as  all  the 
rest,  differed  in  no  way  from  any  other 
of  a  row  of  five-and- twenty.  To  him  it 
was  the  pride  of  the  great  building. 

"O  fortunate  stars!"  he  whispered  to  him- 
self, "that  can  look  through  these  and  see 
my  love  upon  her  bed.  O  rays  too  much 
blessed,  that  can  kiss  her  eyelids,  and  touch 
lightly  upon  the  scented  strands  of  her  hair ! 
O  breath  of  the  night,  that  can  fan  in  her 
white  neck  and  stroke  her  arm  stretched 
out  over  the  coverlet!  To  you,  night-wind, 


220          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

and  to  you,  stars,  I  give  an  errand; 
you  shall  take  a  message  from  me  to  lovely 
Manuela  of  the  golden  tresses.  Tell  her 
that  I  am  watching  out  the  dark;  tell  her 
that  no  harm  shall  come  to  her.  Whisper 
in  her  ear,  mingle  with  her  dreams,  and 
tell  her  that  she  has  a  lover.  Tell  her 
also  that  the  nights  in  Madrid  are  not 
like  those  in  Valencia,  and  that  she  would 
do  well  to  cover  her  arm  and  shoulder  up 
lest  she  catch  cold,  and  suffer." 

There  spoke  the  realist,  the  romantic  realist 
of  Spain;  for  it  is  to  be  observed  that  Gil 
Perez  did  not  know  at  all  whereabouts 
Manuela  lay  asleep,  and  could  not,  natur- 
ally, know  whether  her  arm  was  out  of 
bed  or  in  it.  He  had  forgotten  also  that 
her  hair  had  been  cut  off  -  -  but  these  are 
trifles.  Happy  he!  he  had  forgotten  much 
more  than  that. 

When  Manvers  told  him  that  he  intended 
to  pay  Manuela  a  visit  on  the  day  allowed, 
Gil  Perez  suffered  the  tortures  of  the 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          221 

damned.  Jealous  rage  consumed  his 
vitals  like  a  corroding  acid,  which  reason 
and  loyalty  had  no  power  to  assuage.  Yet 
reason  and  loyalty  played  out  their  allotted 
parts,  and  it  had  been  a  fine  sight  to  see 
Gil  grinning  and  gibbering  at  his  own 
white  face  in  the  looking-glass,  shaking 
his  finger  at  it  and  saying  to  it,  in  English 
(since  it  was  his  master's  shaving-glass), 
"Gil  Perez,  my  fellow,  you  shut  up!"  He 
said  it  many  times,  for  he  had  nothing 
else  to  say  -  -  jealousy  deprived  him  of 
his  wits,  and  he  felt  better  for  the 
discipline.  When  Manvers  returned  there 
was  no  sign  upon  Gil's  brisk  person  of  the 
stormy  conflict  which  had  ravaged  it. 

Manvers  had  seen  her  and,  by  Sister 
Chucha's  charity,  had  seen  her  alone. 
The  poor  girl  had  fallen  at  his  feet  and 
would  have  kissed  them  if  he  had  not 
lifted  her  up.  "No,  my  dear,  no,"  he  said; 
"it  is  I  who  ought  to  kneel.  You  have 
done  wonders  for  me.  You  are  as  brave 


222          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

as  a  lion,  Manuela;  but  I  must  get  you  away 
from  this  place." 

"No,  no,  Don  Osmundo,"  she  cried, 
flushing  up,  "indeed  I  am  better  here." 
She  stood  before  him,  commanding  her- 
self, steeling  herself  in  the  presence  of  this 
man  she  loved  against  any  hint  of  her 
beating  heart. 

He  had  himself  well  in  hand.  Her 
beauty,  her  distress  and  misfortune  could 
not  touch  him  now.  All  that  he  had  for 
her  was  admiration  and  pure  benevolence. 
Fatal  offerings  for  a  woman  inflamed: 
so  soon  as  she  perceived  it  her  courage 
was  needed  for  another  tussle.  Her  blood 
lay  like  lead  in  her  veins,  her  heart  sank 
to  the  deeps  of  her,  and  she  must  screw 
it  back  again  to  the  work  of  the  day. 

He  took  her  hand,  and  she  let  him  have 
it.  What  could  it  matter  now  what  he 
had  of  hers?  "Manuela,"  he  said,  "there 
is  a  way  of  freedom  for  you,  if  you  will 
take  it.  A  man  loves  you  truly,  and 
asks  nothing  better  than  to  work  for  you. 


THE  SPANISH  JADE          223 

I  know  him  —  he 's  been  a  good  friend  to 
me.  Will  you  let  me  pay  you  off  my  debt  ? 
His  name  is  Gil  Perez.  You  have  seen 
him,  I  know.  He's  an  honest  man,  my 
dear,  and  loves  you  to  distraction.  What 
are  you  going  to  say  to  him  if  he  asks 
for  you?" 

She  stood,  handfast  to  the  man  who 
had  kissed  her  —  and  in  kissing  her  had 
drawn  out  her  soul  through  her  lips;  who 
now  was  pleading  that  another  man  might 
have  her  dead  lips.  The  mockery  of  the 
thing  might  have  made  a  worse  woman 
laugh  horribly;  but  this  was  a  woman  made 
pure  by  love.  She  saw  no  mockery,  no  dis- 
crepancy in  what  he  asked  her.  She 
knew  he  was  in  earnest,  and  wished  her 
nothing  but  good. 

And  she  could  see,  without  knowing 
that  she  saw,  how  much  he  desired  to  be 
rid  of  his  obligation  to  her.  Therefore, 
she  reasoned,  she  would  be  serving 
him  again  if  she  agreed  to  what  he 
proposed.  Here  —  if  laughing  had  been 


224          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

her  mood  —  was  matter  for  laughter, 
that  when  he  tried  to  pay  her  off  he  was 
really  getting  deeper  into  debt.  Look  at 
it  in  this  way:  You  owe  a  fine  sum, 
principal  and  interest,  to  a  Jew;  you  go  to 
him  and  propose  to  borrow  again  of  him 
in  order  that  you  may  pay  off  the  first 
debt  and  be  done  with  it.  The  Jew  might 
laugh  but  he  would  lend;  and  Manuela, 
who  hoarded  love,  hugged  to  her  heart  the 
new  bond  she  was  offered.  The  deeper  he 
went  into  debt  the  more  she  must  lend 
him !  There  was  pleasure  in  this  —  shrill 
pleasure  not  far  off  from  pain;  but  she 
was  a  child  of  pleasure,  and  must  take 
what  she  could  get. 

Her  grave  eyes,  uncurtained,  searched 
his  face.  "Is  this  what  you  desire  me  to 
do?  Is  this  what  you  ask  of  me?" 

"My  dear,"  said  he,  "I  desire  your 
freedom.  I  desire  to  see  you  happy  and 
cared  for.  I  must  go  away.  I  must  go 
home.  I  shall  go  more  willingly  if  I  know 
that  I  have  provided  for  my  friend." 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          225 

She  urged  a  half-hearted  plea.  "I  am 
very  well  here,  Don  Osmundo.  The  sisters 
are  kind  to  me,  the  work  is  light.  I  might 
be  happy  here " 

"What!"    he    cried.     "In    prison!" 

"It  is  what  I  deserve,"  she  said;  but  he 
would  not  hear  of  it. 

;'You  are  here  through  my  blunders," 
he  insisted.  "If  I  hadn't  left  you  with 
that  scoundrel  in  the  wood  this  would 
never  have  happened.  And  there's  another 

thing  which  I  must  say "  He  grew 

very  serious.  "I  'm  ashamed  of  myself 
—  but  I  must  say  it."  She  looked  at  her 
hands  in  her  lap,  knowing  what  was  coming. 

"They  said,  you  know,  that  Esteban 
must  have  thought  me  your  lover."  She 
sat  as  still  as  death.  "Well  —  I  was." 

Not  a  word  from  her.  "My  dear,"  he 
went  on  painfully  —  for  Eleanor  Vernon's 
clear  gray  eyes  were  on  him  now,  "I 
must  tell  you  that  I  did  what  I  had  no 
business  to  do.  There 's  a  lady  in  England 
who  —  whom  —  I  was  carried  away  —  I 


226          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

thought "     He  stopped,  truly  shocked 

at  what  he  had  thought  her  to  be.  "Now 
that  I  know  you,  Manuela,  I  tell  you 
fairly  I  behaved  like  a  villain." 

Her  face  was  flung  up  like  that  of  a 
spurred  horse;  she  was  on  the  point  to 
reveal  herself  —  to  tell  him  that  in  that 
act  of  his  lay  all  her  glory.  But  she 
stopped  in  time  —  and  resumed  her  droop- 
ing, and  her  dejection.  "I  must  serve 
him  still  —  serve  him  always,"  was  her 
burden. 

"I  was  your  lover  truly,"  he  continued, 
"after  I  knew  what  you  had  risked  for  me, 
what  you  had  brought  yourself  to  do  for 
me.  Not  before  that.  Before  that  I  had 
been  a  thief  —  a  brute.  But  after  it  I 
loved  you  —  and  then  I  had  your  cross 
set  in  gold  —  and  betrayed  you  into  Don 
Luis's  mad  old  hands.  All  this  trouble  is 
my  fault  —  you  are  here  through  me  - 
you  must  be  got  out  through  me.  Gil 
Perez  is  a  better  man  than  I  am  ever  likely 
to  be.  He  loves  you  sincerely.  He  loved 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          227 

you  before  you  gave  yourself  up.  You 
know  that,  I  expect  .  .  . 

She  knew  it,  of  course,  perfectly  well; 
but  she  said  nothing. 

"He  would  n't  wish  to  bustle  you  into 
marriage,  or  anything  of  the  sort.  He 's  a 
gentleman,  is  Gil  Perez,  and  I  shall  see 
that  he  does  n't  ask  for  you  empty-handed. 
I  am  sure  he  can  make  you  happy;  and  I 
tell  you  fairly  that  the  only  way  I  can  be 
happy  myself  is  to  know  that  I  have  made 
you  amends."  He  got  up  —  at  the  end 
of  his  resources.  "Let  me  leave  his  case 
before  you.  He  '11  plead  it  in  his  own 
way,  you  '11  find.  I  can?t  help  thinking 
that  you  must  know  what  the  state  of  his 
feelings  is.  Think  of  him  as  kindly  as  you 
can  and  think  of  me,  too,  Manuela,  as 
a  man  who  has  done  you  a  great  wrong, 
and  wants  to  put  himself  right  if  he  may." 
He  held  out  his  hand.  "Good-bye,  my 
dear.  I  '11  see  you  again,  I  hope  —  or 
send  a  better  man." 

"Good-bye,  Don  Osmundo,"   she  said, 


228          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

and  gave  him  her  hand.  He  pressed  it 
and  went  away,  feeling  extremely  satisfied 
with  the  hour's  work.  Eleanor  Vernon's 
clear  gray  eyes  smiled  approvingly  upon 
him.  "Damn  it  all,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"I  Ve  got  that  tangle  out  at  last."  He 
began  to  think  of  England  —  Somerset- 
shire —  Eleanor  —  partridges.  "I  shall 
get  home,  I  hope,  by  the  first,"  he  said. 

"He's  a  splendour,  your  novio,  Manue- 
lita,"  said  Sister  Chucha,  and  emphasised 
her  approval  with  a  kiss.  "Fie!"  she 
cried,  "what  a  cold  cheek!  The  cheek 
of  a  dead  woman.  And  you  with  a  hidalgo 
for  your  novio!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  WAR  OPENS 

RETURNING  from  his  visit,  climbing 
the  Calle  Mayor  at  that  blankest 
hour  of  the  summer  day  when  the  sun  is 
at  his  fiercest,  raging  vertically  down  upon 
a  street  empty  of  folk  but  glittering  like 
glass,  and  radiant  with  quivering  air, 
Manvers  was  shot  at  from  a  distance,  so 
far  as  he  could  judge,  of  thirty  yards.  He 
heard  the  ball  go  shrilling  past  him  and 
then  splash  and  flatten  upon  a  church 
wall  beyond.  He  turned  quickly,  but 
could  see  nothing.  Not  a  sign  of  life  was 
upon  the  broad  way,  not  a  curtain  was  lifted, 
not  a  shutter  swung  apart.  To  all  intents  and 
purposes  he  was  upon  the  Castilian  plains. 
Unarmed  though  he  was,  he  went  back 
upon  his  traces  down  the  hill,  expecting 
at  any  moment  that  the  assassin  would  flare 

229 


230          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

out  upon  him  and  shoot  him  down  at 
point-blank.  He  went  back  in  all  some 
fifty  yards.  There  was  no  man  lurking 
that  he  could  discover.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments' irresolution  —  whether  to  stand  or 
proceed — he  decided  that  the  sooner  he  was 
within  walls  the  better.  He  turned  again  and 
walked  briskly  toward  the  Puerta  del  Sol. 
Sixty  yards  or  so  from  the  great 
plaza,  within  sight  of  it,  he  was  fired  at 
again,  and  this  time  he  was  hit  in  the 
muscles  of  the  left  arm.  He  felt  the 
burning  sting,  the  shock  and  the  aching. 
The  welling  of  blood  was  a  blessed  relief. 
On  this  occasion  he  pushed  forward,  and 
reached  his  inn  without  further  trouble. 
He  sent  for  Gil  Perez,  who  whisked  off  for 
the  surgeon;  by  the  time  he  brought  one 
in  Manvers  was  feverish,  and  so  remained 
until  the  morning,  tossing  and  jerking 
through  the  fervent  night,  with  his  arm 
stiff  from  shoulder  to  finger-points. 

'Thata  dam  thief,  sir,  'e  count  on  you 
never  looka  back,"  said  Gil  Perez,  nodding 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          231 

grimly.  "Capitan  Rodney,  'e  all  the  same 
as  you.  Walka  'is  blessed  way,  never 
taka  no  notice  of  anybody.  See  'im  at 
Sevastopol  do  lika  that  all  the  time.  So 
then  this  assassin  'e  creep  after  you  lika 
one  o'clock  up  Calle  Mayor,  leta  fly  at 
you  twice,  three  time,  four  time  —  so 
longa  you  let  'im.  You  walka  backward, 
'e  never  shoot --you  see." 

Manvers  felt  that  to  walk  backward 
would  be  at  least  as  tiresome  as  to  walk 
forward  and  be  shot  at  in  a  city  which 
now  held  little  for  him  but  danger  and 
ennui.  Not  even  Manuela's  fortunes  could 
prevail  against  boredom.  As  he  lay  upon 
his  hateful  bed,  disgust  with  Spain  .grew 
upon  him  hand  over  hand.  He  became 
irritable.  To  Gil  Perez  he  announced  his 
determination.  This  sort  of  thing  must  end. 

Gil  bowed  and  rubbed  his  hands.  'You 
go  'ome,  sir  ?  Is  besta  place  for  you. 
Don  Luis,  'e  kill  you  for  sure.  You  go, 
'e  go  'ome  esleep  on  'is  olda  bed  —  too 
much  satisfy."  Under  his  breath  he  added, 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


"Poor  Manuela  —  my  poor  beautiful! 
She  is  tormented  in  vain!" 

Manvers  told  him  what  had  passed  in 
the  House  of  the  Recogidas.  "I  spoke 
for  you,  Gil.  I  think  she  will  listen  to  you." 

Gil  lifted  up  his  head.  "Every  nighta, 
when  you  are  asleep,  sir,  I  estand  under 
the  wall.  I  toucha  —  I  say,  'Keep  safa 
guard  of  Manuela,  you  wall.'  If  she 
'ave  me  I  maka  'er  never  sorry  for  it.  I 
love  'er  too  much.  But  I  think  she  call 
me  dirt.  I  know  all  about  'er  too  much." 

What  he  knew  he  kept  hidden;  but  one 
day  he  went  to  the  Recogidas  and  asked 
to  see  Sister  Chucha.  He  was  obsequious, 
but  impassioned,  full  of  cajolery,  but  not 
for  a  moment  did  he  try  to  impose  upon 
his  countrywoman  by  any  assumption  of 
omniscience.  That  was  reserved  for  his 
master, 'and  was  indeed  a  kind  of  compli- 
ment to  his  needs.  Sister  Chucha  heard 
him  at  first  with  astonishment. 

"Then  it  was  for  you,  Gil  Perez,  that 
the  gentleman  came  here?" 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          233 

Gil  nodded.  "It  was  for  me,  sister. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?" 

"I  thought  that  gentleman  was  interested." 

Gil  peered  closely  into  her  face.  "That 
gentleman  is  persecuted.  Manuela  can 
save  him  from  the  danger  he  stands  in  — 
but  only  through  me.  Sister,  I  love  her 
more  than  life  and  the  sky,  but  I  am  con- 
tent, and  she  will  be  content  that  life  shall 
be  dumb  and  the  sky  dark  if  that  gentle- 
man may  go  free.  Let  me  speak  with 
Manuela — you  will  see." 

The  nun  was  troubled.  "Too  many 
see  Manuela,"  she  said.  "Only  yesterday 
there  came  here  a  man." 

"Ha!"  said  Gil  Perez  fiercely.  "What 
manner  of  a  man?" 

"A    little    man,"    she    told    him,    "that 

came  in  creeping,  rounding  his  shoulders 

-  so,  and  swimming  with  his  hands.     He 

saw    Manuela,    and    left    her    trembling. 

She  was  white  and  gray  —  and  very  cold." 

'That  man,"  said  Gil,  folding  his  arms, 

* '  was  our  enemy.  Let  me  now  see  Manuela. ' * 


234          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

It  was  more  a  command  than  an  entreaty. 
Sister  Chucha  obeyed  it.  She  went  away 
without  a  word,  and  returned  presently, 
leading  Manuela  by  the  hand.  She 
brought  her  into  the  room,  released  her, 
and  stood,  watching  and  listening. 

Eyes  leaped  to  meet  —  Manuela  was 
on  fire,  but  Gil's  fire  ate  up  hers. 

"Senorita,  you  have  surrendered  in  vain. 
These  men  must  have  blood  for  blood. 
The  patron  lies  wounded,  and  will  die 
unless  we  save  him.  Seiiorita,  you  are 
willing,  and  I  am  willing — speak." 

She  regarded  him  steadily.  'You  know 
that  I  am  willing,  Gil  Perez." 

"It  was  Tormillo  you  saw  yesterday?" 
"Yes,  Tormillo  —  like  a  toad." 
"He    was    sent    to    mock    you    in    your 
pain.   He  is  a  fool.   We  will  show  him  a  fool 
in  his  own  likeness.  Are  you  content  to  die  ?" 
"You  know  that  I  am  content." 
He  turned  to  the  nun.     "Sister  Chucha, 
you   will   let   this   lady  go.     She  goes   out 
to  die  —  I,  who  love  her,  am  content  that 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          235 

she  should  die.     If  she  dies  not,  she  returns 
here.     If  she  dies,  you  will  not  ask  for  her.'* 

The  sister  stared.  "  What  do  you  mean,  you 
two  ?  How  is  she  to  die  ?  When  ?  Where  ?" 

"She  is  to  die  under  the  knife  of  Don 
Luis,"  said  Gil  Perez.  "And  I  am  to  lay 
her  there." 

'You,  my  friend!     And  what  have  you 
to  do  with  Don  Luis  and  his  affairs  ?" 

"Manuela  is  young,"  said  Gil  "and 
loves  her  life.  I  am  young,  and  love 
Manuela  more  than  life.  If  I  take  her 
to  Don  Luis  and  say,  '  Kill  her,  senor  Don 
Luis,  and  in  that  act  kill  me  also,5  I  think 

he  will  be  satisfied.     I  can  see  no  other 
i 

way  of  saving  the  life  of  Don  Osmundo." 
"And  what  do  you  ask  me  to  do?"  the 
nun  asked  presently. 

"I  ask  you  to  give  me  Manuela  presently 
for  one  hour  or  for  eternity.  If  Don  Luis 
rejects  her,  I  bring  her  back  to  you  here 
-  on  the  word  of  an  old  Christian.  If 
he  takes  her,  she  goes  directly  to  God, 
where  you  would  have  her  be.  Sister 


236          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

Chucha,"    said    Gil   Perez   finely,    "I    am 
persuaded  that  you  will  help  us." 

Sister   Chucha  looked   at  her  hands  - 
fat  and  very  white  hands.      'You  ask  me 
to  do  a  great  deal  —  to  incur  great  danger 
—  for  a  gentleman  who  is  nothing  to  me." 

"He  is  everything  to  Manuela,"  said 
Gil  softly.  "That  you  know." 

"And  you,  Gil  Perez  —  what  is  he  to 
you  ?"  This  was  Sister  Chucha's  sharpest. 
Gil  took  it  with  a  blink. 

"He  is  my  master — that  is  something.  He 
is  more  to  Manuela.  And  she  is  everything 
to  me.  Sister,  you  may  trust  me  with  her." 

The  nun  turned  from  him  to  the  motion- 
less beauty  by  her  side. 

"You,  my  child,  what  do  you  say  to 
this  project?  Shall  I  let  you  go?" 

Manuela  wavered  a  little.  She  swayed 
about  and  balanced  herself  with  her  hands. 
But  she  quickly  recovered. 

"Sister  Chucha,"  she  said,  "let  me  go." 
The  soft  green  light  from  her  eyes  spoke 
for  her. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MEETING    BY    MOONLIGHT 

BY  MOONLIGHT  in  the  sheeted  park 
four  persons  met  to  do  battle  for  the 
life  of  Mr.  Manvers,  while  he  lay  grumb- 
ling and  burning  in  his  bed,  behind  the 
curtains  of  it.  Don  Luis  Ramonez  was 
there,  the  first  to  come  —  tall  and  gaunt, 
with  undying  pride  in  his  hollow  eyes, 
like  a  spectre  of  rancour  kept  out  of  the 
grave.  Behind  him  Tormillo  came  creeping, 
a  little  restless  man,  dogging  his  master's 
footsteps,  watching  for  word  or  sign  from 
him.  These  two  stood  by  the  lake  in  the 
huge  empty  park,  still  under  its  shroud 
of  white  moonlight. 

Don  Luis  picked  up  the  corner  of  his 
cloak  and  threw  it  over  his  left  shoulder. 
He  stalked  stately  up  and  down  the  arc  of  a 
circle  which  a  stone  seat  defined.  Tormillo 

237 


238          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

sat  upon  the  edge  of  the  seat,  his  elbows  on 
his  knees,  and  looked  at  the  ground.  But 
he  kept  his  master  in  the  tail  of  his  eye. 
Now  and  again  furtively,  but  as  if  he 
loved  what  he  feared,  he  put  his  hand 
into  his  breast  and  felt  the  edge  of  his 
long  knife. 

Once  indeed,  when  Don  Luis  on  his  sentry- 
march  had  his  back  to  him,  he  drew  out 
the  blade  and  turned  it  under  the  moon, 
watching  the  cold  light  shiver  and  flash  up 
along  it  and  down.  No  fleck  or  flaw  was 
upon  it,  it  showed  the  moon  whole  within  its 
face.  This  pair,  each  absorbed  in  his  own 
business,  waited  for  the  other. 

Tormillo  saw  them  coming  and  marked 
it  by  rising  from  his  seat.  He  peered 
along  the  edge  of  the  water  to  be  sure, 
then  he  wrent  noiselessly  toward  them, 
looking  back  often  over  his  shoulder  at 
Don  Luis.  But  his  master  did  not  seem 
to  be  aware  of  any  one.  He  stood  still, 
looking  over  the  gloomy  lake. 

Tormillo,  having  gone  half  way,  waited. 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          239 

Gil  Perez  hailed  him.  "Is  that  you, 
Tormillo?"  The  muffled  figure  of  a  girl 
by  his  side  gave  no  sign. 

"It  is  I,  Gil  Perez.     Be  not  afraid." 

"If  I  were  afraid  of  anything,  I  should 
not  be  here.  I  have  brought  Manuela 
of  her  own  will." 

"Good,"  said  Tormillo.  "Give  her  to 
me.  We  will  go  to  Don  Luis." 

'Yes,  you  shall  take  her.     I  will  remain 
here.     Senorita,  will  you  go  with  him  ?" 

Manuela  said,  "I  am  ready." 

Tormillo  turned  his  face  away,  and 
Gil  Perez  with  passion  whispered  to  Man- 
uela: "My  soul,  my  life,  Manuela.  One 
sign  from  you,  and  I  kill  him!" 

She  turned  him  her  rapt  face.  "No 
sign  from  me,  brother  —  no  sign  from  me." 

"My  life,"  sighed  Gil  Perez.  "Soul 
of  my  soul!"  She  held  him  out  her  hand. 

"Pray  for  me,"  she  said.  He  snatched 
at  her  hand,  knelt  on  his  knee,  stooped 
over  it,  and  then,  jumping  up,  flung  him- 
self from  her. 


240          THE   SPANISH   JADE 

"Take  her,  you,  Tormillo." 

Tormillo  took  her  by  the  hand,  and 
they  went  together  toward  the  semi- 
circular seat,  in  whose  centre  stood  Don 
Luis  like  a  black  statue.  Soft-footed  went 
she,  swaying  a  little,  like  a  gossamer 
caught  in  a  light  wind.  Don  Luis  half 
turned,  and  saluted  her. 

"Master,"  said  Tormillo,  "Manuela  is 
here."  As  if  she  were  a  figure  to  be 
displayed  he  lightly  threw  back  her  veil. 
Manuela  stood  still  and  bowed  her  head 
to  the  uncovered  gentleman. 

"I  am  ready,  senor  Don  Luis,"  she  said. 
He  came  nearer,  watching  her,  saying 
nothing. 

"I  killed  Don  Bartolome  your  son," 
she  said,  "because  I  feared  him.  He 
told  me  that  he  had  come  to  kill  me; 
but  I  was  beforehand  with  him  there. 
It  is  true  that  I  loved  Don  Osmundo,  who 
had  been  kind  to  me." 

"You  killed  my  son,"  said  Don  Luis, 
"and  you  loved  the  Englishman." 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          241 

"I  own  the  truth,"  she  said,  "and  am 
ready  to  requite  you.  I  thought  to  have 
satisfied  you  by  giving  myself  up  —  but 
you  have  shown  me  that  that  was  not 
enough.  Now,  then,  I  give  you  myself  of 
my  own  will,  if  you  will  let  Don  Osmundo 
go  free.  Will  you  make  a  bargain  with 
me  ?  He  knew  nothing  of  Don  Bartolome 
your  son." 

Don  Luis  bowed.  Manuela  turned  her 
head  slowly  about  to  the  still  trees,  to  the 
sleeping  water,  to  the  moon  in  the  clear 
sky,  as  if  to  greet  the  earth  for  the  last 
time.  For  one  moment  her  eyes  fell  on 
Gil  Perez  afar  off  -  -  on  his  knees  with  his 
hands  raised  to  heaven. 

"I  am  ready,"  she  said  again,  and  bowed 
her  head.  Tormillo  put  into  Don  Luis's 
hands  the  long  knife.  Don  Luis  threw 
it  out  far  into  the  lake.  It  fled  like  a  streak 
of  light,  struck,  skimmed  along  the  sur- 
face, and  sank  without  a  splash.  He 
went  to  Manuela  and  put  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  She  quivered  at  his  touch 


THE   SPANISH   JADE 


"My  child,"  said  he,  "I  cannot  touch 
you.  You  have  redeemed  yourself.  Go 
now,  and  sin  no  more." 

He  left  her  and  went  his  way,  stately, 
along  the  edge  of  the  water.  He  stalked 
past  Gil  Perez  at  his  prayers  as  if  he  saw 
him  not  —  as  may  well  be  the  case.  But 
Gil  Perez  got  upon  his  feet  as  he  went  by, 
and  saluted  him  with  profound  respect. 

Immediately  afterward  he  went  like  the 
wind  to  Manuela.  He  found  her  crying 
freely  on  the  stone  seat,  her  arms  upon 
the  back  of  it  and  her  face  hidden  in  her 
arms.  She  wept  with  passion;  her  sobs 
were  pitiful  to  hear.  Tormillo,  not  at  all 
moved,  waited  for  Gil  Perez. 

"Esa  te  quiere  bien  que  te  hace  llorar," 
he  said:  "She  loves  thee  well;  that  makes 
thee  weep." 

"I  weep  not,"  said  Gil  Perez;  "it  is 
she  that  weeps.  As  for  me,  I  praise  God." 

"Aha,    Gil   Perez,"    Tormillo   began  - 
then  he  chuckled.     "For  you,  my  friend, 
there  's  still  sunlight  on  the  wall." 


THE   SPANISH   JADE          243 

Gil  nodded.  "I  believe  it."  Then  he 
looked  fiercely  at  the  other  man.  "Go 
you  with  God,  Tormillo,  and  leave  me 
with  her." 

Tormillo  stared,  spat  on  the  ground. 
"No  need  of  your  'chuck  chuck*  to  an 
old  dog..  I  go,  Gil  Perez.  Adios,  her- 
mano." 

Gil  Perez  sat  on  the  stone  seat,  and 
drew  Manuela-'s  head  to  his  shoulder. 
She  suffered  him. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000817917 


